Of Brothers and Sisters
by kangaroo2010
Summary: When a sister who can't keep her mouth shut and a brother so honorable it's almost a personality flaw are defiant one too many times, they find themselves torn away from everything they've ever known, beaten and bloody, in a land of snow at the bottom of the world, lost, alone, and wondering if they'll ever go home again. Submitted for Zutara Week, 2015.
1. Happenstance

Quick Pre-Note: Because this is being submitted for Zutara Week 2015 ( _hey, I didn't forget this year!_ ), I feel the need to put in the warning that this fic will have some adult language ( _though my long-time readers will note that there's not as much as usual, mostly due to no Toph...sad, I know, but work with me_ ). Everyone got that? Good!

* * *

 **Happenstance**

" _ **SOKKA!"**_

 _Fuck._ Sokka, having never been prone to such pedestrian things as _modesty_ or _shame,_ liked to think of himself as having a mind that was of a higher caliber than most. Having the utmost faith in such _exquisitely developed mental faculties,_ he was, in the time between when the doors to the meeting hall slammed open, thus allowing his sister to bellow his name in way that didn't _quite_ say, _YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE,_ but might as well have, and the moment when that very same sister came to a stop on the other side of his map table ( _which he made himself, thank you for asking, Inner Sokka_ ), able to come up with any number of possible ways in which to handle the storm that was about to burst atop his head. For example, he seriously considered making a break for one of the weaker sections of the outer wall and hurling himself to freedom. Failing that, he also considered ducking under the table and pretending that he wasn't there. He even took a moment to wonder if, maybe, _just maybe,_ his sister had, without warning, gone blind, deaf, and, who knows, _Tui and La, you know you owe me a solid,_ mute as well.

Alas, none of these things happened. The gods didn't even see fit to retroactively make this moment a terrible dream, or, if it _was_ a dream, at the very least wake him up. Instead, after a very hurried, very silent prayer to all the gods that ever were, both above and below, that he would be able to escape the coming tongue-lashing with at least a modicum of dignity intact, he looked up into his sister's furious eyes, put on his patented _Sokka Smile,_ and said, "Oh, hey, Sis, what's shakin'?"

He couched his words in his most flippant tone ( _and that's saying something_ ), in the vain hope that such a method would calm the raging beast that was his little sister's temper. Alas, it appeared that the gods were mute to his prayers ( _as usual_ ), as she crossed her arms, angrily puffed a stray lock of hair off her nose, narrowed her eyes, and didn't _quite_ set him on fire with a simple glance, but hey, it wasn't for lack of trying.

"Do you, pray tell," she said, her voice low, rumbling like the growl of a volcano on the cusp of erupting, "care to explain yourself?"

He took a deep breath, mostly to let a little mental pep talk sink its way into his heart ( _because, come on, Sokka, you're twenty, she's eighteen,_ _ **surely**_ _you're not still terrified of your little sister...right…?_ ), let that selfsame deep breath out, and turned the infamous _Sokka Smile_ up another few notches. "Now, Katara, I can't _begin_ to imagine what you mean."

If Katara was mollified by the words, she did not show it. In fact, it seemed to make her even angrier, a state of affairs that _should_ have been impossible, but, somehow, was not. "Uh huh," she said, somehow making every syllable crack like a whip, " _not a fucking clue,_ right?"

He dropped the _Sokka Smile,_ drawing himself up to what _he_ felt was his full, _most impressive,_ height, pressing a hand to his chest as he said, in tones _most aggrieved,_ "Come now, Katara, is there really any reason to use such language? I mean, come on, what would Gran-Gran say?"

Katara popped an eyebrow, while Sokka couldn't quite keep his eyes off where her fists were clenching and unclenching on her arms. "That I should've smacked you around with Mom's wooden spoon a bit more when we were growing up, so that you'd know some gods-damn manners?"

"Well," he observed, quite rightly, in his most humble opinion, "I doubt she'd use the blasphemy."

The next thing he knew, his heart had leaped up into his throat and he himself had jumped a good foot from the table, which was itself vibrating from the force with which Katara had slammed her fists down on top of it.

" _That is_ _ **not**_ _the fucking_ _ **POINT,**_ _Sokka,"_ she said, grinding each word out through gritted teeth as if it pained her. She held up a hand, balled it into a tight fist, and when she began ticking points off, unrolling a finger which each one, he almost wept in relief that she wasn't going to punch him.

 _"One,_ " she began, her voice gaining in fury as she barreled on, _"_ it's been over a _week_ since we got word from Kuujjuarapik," that being one of the more isolated villages in their tribe's territory, way down in the south, buried in the foothills of the Polar Mountains, "that they needed our help. _Two,_ seeing as I'm not just the best waterbender in all of the Southern Water Tribes, but also the best healer, _and that's including all healers who went away to war with Father,_ I was the obvious choice to go. _Three,_ the only reason I didn't leave before that big fucking blizzard is because _you,_ being the over-protective idiot that you are, insisted on giving me an escort, and then dragged your feet on getting it all together. _Four,_ the only reason I'm not already halfway _there_ is because you were all, _But, Katara, how're we ever going to get the town dug out from under these piles of snow without the most powerful waterbender in the world?_ And finally, last but not least, _five,_ the _only_ reason I even agreed to _that_ is because _you,_ my _gigantic_ moron of a brother, promised to have a buffalo-yak saddled up and ready to go at dawn today, so that all I had to do, and I _quote,_ was, _Roll out of bed, do your hair, help Estuuya deliver her baby, and off you go! No muss, no fuss!"_

Sokka allowed himself a light chuckle. "Heh. _No muss, no fuss._ I still like that one. A real stroke of genius that."

 _"Sokka…"_

He did a quick mental calculation of just how much danger he was in, remembered the cup of water that was sitting right by his elbow at that very moment, and immediately decided that discretion, as usual with his sister, was the better part of valor. "Alright, Katara," he began, raising his hands, palms out, waving them back-and-forth in what he _hoped_ she would see as a suggestion to _calm down,_ "let me explain…"

She stepped back from the table, re-crossing her arms, and when she spoke again, sure, she still sounded angry, but the previously mentioned water was no longer vibrating in its cup, which he considered a victory. "Well, I do believe that's what I asked you to do, what, a good five minutes ago?"

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, waving her reminder aside, "like I said, _let me explain._ Point is, we just got word from Kuujjuarapik, and it turns out they don't need help anymore. The blizzard hit down there before it hit us, and there were these herders from the Aleuts next door," a point he illustrated by crooking his thumb in what was, even by his admission, only vaguely any direction at all, "and one of these herders was a top class healer, and got everything sorted. And," he rushed to add, throwing his hands out once more, "before you get angry again, I sent someone to tell you as soon as I heard, but you were in the middle of delivering the aforementioned Estuuya's baby, so, you know, _that._ So, you see, nothing to get upset about."

To his happy surprise, his sister, while not exactly looking _happy,_ was at least starting to calm down. "Okay, see? That makes sense. I mean, sure, except for the part where you were too lazy to come and tell me yourself, or that your little _errand boy_ was too chicken to stick his head in the door and tell, I dunno, any of the upwards of _two dozen women_ who were gathered in Estuuya's mom's hut, but, you know, I guess we'll leave that alone for now."

He shrugged, the tension going from his shoulders as he felt the possibility of being frozen to one of the walls ( _again_ ) pass him by. "Good, because otherwise, we'd have to address the fact that I completely forgot to come and check if you'd finished delivering that baby yet, and who wants to do that, right?" He put on the _Sokka Smile_ once more, with an added touch of innocent guile, and reached over to give his sister a light nudge in the arm. "I mean, that'd just ruin our newfound sense of peace and goodwill, and that wouldn't do anyone any good, right? I mean…heh…right, Sis?" He frowned. Normally, his sister was _much_ more efficient about destroying his often inappropriate attempts at levity. "Um…Sis…?"

A finger shot up in the air, so quickly and so close to his nose that he almost went cross-eyed trying to get a handle on it. Before he could even get his bearings once more and open his mouth, Katara helpfully snapped, " _Shush._ You hear that?"

He gave her a very honest look of confusion. "Hear what?"

She jerked her head towards the doors. " _That._ There's something going on outside."

He shrugged as he very carefully reached out and moved his sister's finger away from his face. "Probably some of the kids kicking around a football. They like to do that because they know it irritates me that they're not training, _like they're supposed to be doing, whether I'm there or not._ In fact…" His voice trailed off, and he never did figure out what he meant to say. His sister was already striding away, flicking the cap from the waterskin she always kept hanging at her hip, his last sight of her face being of a grim, determined expression.

That's when it hit him. There was a commotion outside, and it was anything _but_ the young boys and girls of the tribe goofing off in their perennial attempts to annoy him, regardless of his status as Chief in his father's absence. _And he really should be back by now; the raiding season is over, and it's not our tribe's turn to guard Chameleon Bay. Damn these stupid, unseasonable storms._ But that was neither here nor there, was it? Because the noise outside was getting louder, and as he began to follow in his sister's wake, picking his sword-belt up from where he had propped it against a handy chair and strapping it on, the hair on the back of his neck began to rise.

Because it sounded like the entire village was gathering out there, and, judging from the snatches of conversation that were filtering through the walls, the mood seemed to be turning downright _ugly._

A whole host of images flashed through his mind, none of them good. The winter storms really had come early this year, seemingly heedless of the fact that it was still autumn, and there were reports of people from all four nations washing up far from where they were supposed to be. Why, just the past week, an Earth Kingdom warship had limped onto shore in the land of the Inupiat tribe up the coast, and then there were the others…

 _Because there's a whole other fleet of ships out there, getting caught in the storms, and gods, if that's what I've got on my hands…_

The doors slammed open as his sister reached them, the sunlight blazing through, blinding him as he staggered up behind her, the only sounds being the roar of his people outside and his sister's voice slicing through the din.

 _"AND JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"_

 _Dammit…and she wasn't even supposed to be here today…_

* * *

"Zu-Zu, forgive me if this seems like the wrong moment to ask such a question, but I just have to know: Have I finally lost my mind, or are you _giggling?"_

Zuko took a moment to ponder his sister's question, seeing as the circumstances warranted a careful examination of the facts. After all, there was little about their current situation that could be called anything even remotely resembling _amusing._ Just the previous night, the siblings had, after a month-long, storm-wracked voyage spent desperately trying not to vomit all over their cells in the bowels of a rickety, half-dead ship, been unceremoniously dumped on the shores of an alien land blanketed with snow. What had followed was a night spent huddling around a weak fire, the best they were able to put together in the circumstances, while they actually came to appreciate that their father's men had not given them proper winter clothing, since it made them too cold to think about how they hadn't been fed so much as a heel of bread in four days. Then, dawn had come, and with it a half-dozen dark-skinned warriors swathed in furs. With the tribesmen had come burlap sacks over their heads, rough ropes that kept their hands bound and behind their backs, all topped off with a good beating when Zuko, like an idiot, had tried to object to such treatment. Then, there came the long day of staggering through ankle-deep snow like drunken fools, with a spear-point pricking at his whiplashed back and blood trickling down from his ruined face.

And now, it seemed, they had reached something resembling civilization, judging from the growing sound of the increasingly agitated mob that seemed to be forming around them, the mob whose mood seemed to be quickly shifting from _displeased_ to downright _murderous._ All while those same spears pricked at his and his sister's backs, to which abuse was now added taunting, catcalls, insults, and the occasional rock.

None of which changed the fact that Zuko was, indeed, giggling like a schoolboy who had just learned a new swear word.

"Heh…as a matter of fact, Zula, yes I am."

From where his sister staggered along beside him came a derisive snort of the kind only she was capable of, no matter the circumstances. "Well, don't hold out on me. I could use a good chuckle," she drawled, speaking in their native tongue of Nihongo because every time they tried to speak in Inuktitut, it seemed to drive the tribesmen into a near homicidal rage.

"Heh…well, as it happens, I was just thinking of the last thing Uncle said to us, right before Father's poison finished him off."

"What, you mean that whole speech about how we should never lose heart, no matter how bad things get, because, what was it he said? _It could always be worse?"_

He nodded, why, he didn't know, seeing as his sister's head was covered by the same kind of coarse, itchy, and maddeningly uncomfortable burlap sack as his was. _Habit, I suppose._ "That's the very thing."

"And that made you laugh? Gods, Zu-Zu, we cried for a _week_ when Uncle died; I still get choked up when I think about it."

"Ah, but that's just the thing: The memory has forced me to conclude, rather reluctantly, that our Uncle, may the gods guide his eternal soul to ever-lasting peace, might just have been full of shit."

There was a long pause, during which the only sounds were the ever-mounting fury of the villagers and the crunch of their flimsy boots trudging through the snow.

After which pause, Azula let out a soft giggle.

"You know what, Zu-Zu? You might just be on to something there."

To that, he could only sigh. _"Tell me about it…"_

Suddenly, one of their recently acquired guards ( _whom Zuko couldn't quite bring himself to hate, seeing as, for all of their abuse, they were still a vast improvement over the guards they'd had before_ ) bellowed a command. For all that Zuko and his sister had benefited from a comprehensive royal education, neither of them spoke a word of whatever dialect this particular tribe used, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that they had just been commanded to halt. For a moment, he considered ignoring the order. He was exhausted, filthy, hungry, thirsty, his bending had been suppressed by some sort of concoction forced down his throat the previous morning, and to top everything off, the sack on his head was making his nose itch. His wrists were starting to chafe and his back burned and his dead left eyeball seemed to be on fire. Needless to say, he was feeling a bit defiant.

Then, the left side of his face throbbed, as if to remind him of what heedless, unthinking defiance had so far gotten him, and he decided to obey.

 _For now._

What followed was a long lull, as if their captors couldn't quite decide what to do with them. For his part, Zuko would have much rather someone just killed him and got this whole farce over with, but since when did the world give a damn about what _he_ wanted. The crowd continued to grow; he could practically _feel_ the hatred and anger pulsing off of them. Their guards seemed to be having some sort of heated discussion, though Zuko's attempts to make sense of the conversation were ruined by the pebbles that kept smacking into his body.

 _Are you watching, Uncle?_ He looked up in the direction of the sky, until he could sense the warmth of the sun bleeding through the sack. _**It could always be worse?**_ _If you're watching, I'd appreciate an answer to this: How could it_ _ **possibly**_ _get any worse?_

And then, because the universe loved nothing more than fucking with him, he got an answer. There came a crunching of snow, until he felt the presence of one of the bigger of the tribesmen who had brought them in, the great hulking lout who had earlier socked Zuko in the gut so hard that Zuko would've thrown up, if he'd had anything in his stomach. He could all but _feel_ the guy looming over him, could almost _see_ the look of disdain and contempt.

The tribesman said something, something that Zuko did not at all understand. Doing his best to sound cooperative, he leaned over to nudge his sister. "Zula, you catch any of that?"

"Fuck no; it's all gibberish to me. Hey," she said, stepping forward as she switched into her pitch-perfect Inuktitut, "I get that we now exist to amuse you, but would it kill you to start abusing us in a language we can understand?"

First, came the silence, as if the crowd had been stunned into speechlessness by the gall of a Fire Nation dog daring to speak their people's trade language. Then, there came the snarl, as the hulking brute before them sputtered in rage.

And then, at last, came the _crack,_ as Zuko listened in horror as the butt of a spear made contact with the side of his sister's head. The crowd cheered, roaring its approval, more than a few chanting something that Zuko would've sworn on his soul sounded a lot like, _Go on, hit her again!_ The brute laughed, and then everyone else joined in, laughing and jeering as his sister went down into the snow like a sack of potatoes.

Everything was a blur after that. A voice that sounded a lot like his screamed, _Leave my sister alone!_ He was lunging, at who or what he hadn't the faintest clue, but whoever it was, he made contact, hurling his shoulder into what felt like their chest and tumbling to the ground after them. The crowd roared again, roared and booed, and then someone was lifting him up out of the snow and he sensed something coming for his face and it hit the left side and it felt like his very skull was bursting at the seams and all he knew after that were the stars and the roaring in his ears as he plunged into a deep, cavernous darkness.

The last thing he heard was a young woman's voice, slicing through the din and bringing with it a silence that was almost profound.

The last thing he thought was that the voice sounded very, very beautiful.

The last thing he knew was nothing.

* * *

It all played out before her like something out of a cheap melodrama. There were two of them, hands bound behind their backs, heads covered in sacks. One seemed to be tall, at least as tall as her brother, for all that he was hunched over, lines of dried blood crisscrossing the back of his shirt. The other was shorter, but seemed bigger, standing tall and proud, unbent, unbowed, unbroken. They were both obviously Fire Nation, though their clothes were faded and threadbare, only a few small steps above rags. The shorter one was shouting at that big idiot Kunikpaa, shouting in very good Inuktitut, though the girl – for whatever reason – spoke with the nasal drawl of the North.

What came next happened in the blink of an eye. Kunikpaa crashed the butt of his spear into the side of the girl's head ( _because her voice was obviously that of a girl, and a young one at that_ ), and the girl was going down, and the other prisoner was snarling and gnashing his teeth in rage, screaming in what sounded like Nihongo as he hurled himself into Kunikpaa. The two of them went down, and there was a scuffle, and then another of her fellow tribesmen, the normally calm and sedate Pamiuq, was crashing his fist into the left side of the prisoner's face, and the sunlight was flashing off of bared steel as people began to draw their daggers and it was all getting out of control and she still couldn't believe what was happening, it was horrible, _is this what we've come to,_ and she saw red and opened her mouth and that's when Katara said what she had to say.

 _"AND JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"_

Silence fell like a shroud. It looked like the whole town was gathered in the square, women and children and old men and teenage boys too young for the War. She saw her moment and seized it, slapping aside the restraining hand Sokka was trying to put on her shoulder and storming up to Pamiuq, knocking the dagger from the young boy's fingers.

"I'm _waiting,_ " she snarled, somehow managing to glare _down_ at Pamiuq, for all that Pamiuq had a good head on her in height. "Or has the moose-lion got your tongue, along with your dignity?"

Pamiuq gulped, but it was Kunikpaa who answered, the boy shrugging as he hauled himself up off the ground and brushed snow from his furs. "Well, Ms. Katara," he said, dipping his head in respect to the chief's daughter, the closest their people came to the complex bowing of Earth and Fire, "as you can see, they're prisoners, and they were getting lippy. Had to teach them some respect, right?" He punctuated this with a smile, as if to say, _See, Miss? Nothing to get upset about! All's fair in love and war, right?_

Needless to say, Katara was anything but _amused._ If anything, it only made her angrier, her rage bubbling and churning in the pit of her stomach until it felt like her very soul was on fire. "So," she ground out, a pain beginning to pulse in her temples, "this is what we've come to? Beating up on helpless prisoners? _This_ is what the valiant warriors of the Southern Water Tribes do in their spare time?"

To their credit, the half-dozen overgrown boys in front of her did their best to hold their ground before her infamous fury. "Well," another boy, this one named Nasak, said, stepping forward and holding up a long, curved sword in his hand, "they weren't exactly _helpless._ I mean, they had _this,_ right? And the girl, when we were putting the sacks over their heads, up and bit me."

"She tried to bend at us, too," Pamiuq chimed in. "Seemed really mad that she couldn't."

"Right, she did, didn't she?" Nasak said, settling his prize back on his shoulder. "So, like I said, far from helpless, and besides, they're only Fire Nation. It's not like they treat us well when they get their hands on us, do they?"

"Oh," Katara said, crossing her arms, spitting out each word as if it hurt her, "I see. Well then, I'll have to let my Father know when he gets home. He'll be very surprised to discover that we're now taking tips on _honorable conduct_ from the motherfucking _Fire Lord._ "

"That's news to me," added her brother as he slid up beside her. "I always assumed that we were a proud and honorable people who would never stoop to being little more than _bullies,_ but, hey, I've never been wrong before, but there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

That did it. In the blink of an eye, the ugly mood evaporated, replaced by a thick fog of regret as her people began to awkwardly shuffle their feet and hang their heads in shame. Quite a few began to wander away, hands shoved deep in their pockets, a process aided by Sokka as he began to stomp around, waving his arms, _nothing to see here, people, show's over, go back to doing whatever it was that you were doing!_

Katara didn't pay attention to a bit of it. She turned her back on her people, crouching down beside the girl, who was coming to, moaning. Without bothering to stop and think, Katara reached out, tore the burlap sack off the girl's head and tossed it aside.

What she saw made her stomach lurch. The girl couldn't have been a day over sixteen, with golden eyes that practically glowed in the weak sunlight and a massive bruise coloring and swelling on a face that seemed to have been hollowed out by stress and exhaustion. She looked like she hadn't slept or eaten for days, and her eyes seemed hazy, unfocused, rattling around in their sockets as the girl clawed her way back into the world. She was, in short, an absolute mess, unwashed hair hanging in thick, jet-black strands as she muttered to herself in a language Katara did not understand.

That's when it hit her: Her people, the people she had known all her life, had spent their morning pushing around a teenage girl who was both unarmed and already looked half-dead. Katara swallowed the bile that threatened to burn its way up her throat, muttering a quick prayer for strength as she checked the girl's pulse and made sure that she was, in fact, still alive. She performed a quick examination, feeling for broken or cracked bones, found none, for all that the girl's ribs seemed to be etched into her skin. By the time she was done, the girl was fully conscious, doing her best to sit up.

Katara stopped her, gently pushing the girl back down and leaning over her, putting on her best smile and couching her voice in its calmest tones. "I really wouldn't recommend that," she said in Inuktitut, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "I know it's cold in the snow, but I need you to stay down until I make sure you don't have a concussion." She held a finger up in front of the girl's face. "Follow my finger with your eyes, but without moving your head. You understand what I'm saying?"

There was a long pause, during which the girl looked like she was trying to decide between spitting in Katara's face or just outright trying to bite the finger off, but, in the end, the girl gave a weak nod. "I understand."

Katara smiled. "Good. Now, like I said, follow my finger. Excellent. Can you tell me your name?"

Another pause, another long moment during which fury and relief waged open war across the girl's face. "Azula…my name is Azula."

"Alright, Azula," Katara replied, trying not to frown at how her tongue mangled the foreign name, "can you tell me how old you are?"

"…sixteen."

"Only two years younger than me! And before you ask, I'll examine your brother in a minute. He's breathing, so I'm pretty sure he'll be just fine."

What little emotion had been slowly filtering into the girl named Azula's features vanished in an instant. In its place was left a look of such profound hatred and such abject despair that Katara felt her heart ache in her chest.

"Don't say that…"

Katara frowned, retracting her finger. "Say what?"

The girl's eyes locked on Katara's own, and what Katara saw there made her gulp. "Say that he'll be _fine._ Say that he'll be _okay._ He's not. I don't care what he says, or what lies he tries to feed you, but he'll never be _fine,_ not today, not tomorrow, not _ever._ "

Katara tried not to look away, she really did. "I'm…I'm sorry, Azula. I didn't mean to upset you."

The girl responded to that with a scoff of such exquisite quality that it was almost _royal._ "Don't worry about it; not your fault. Now, if you'll be so kind, leave me the fuck alone and help my brother."

Katara nodded, already turning to the boy. "I can do that. Can you tell me a little about him?"

"His name's Zuko," came the reply, as Sokka reappeared, setting the strange sword Nasak had been brandishing aside before pulling the girl into a sitting position so that he could loosen the ropes binding her wrists. "He's eighteen, and the world's biggest idiot. He's also the best big brother a girl could ever ask for, so if he dies, I'm going to rip out every throat in this village if I have to do it with my teeth."

Somehow, Katara couldn't quite bring herself to take offense. "Fair enough; in your shoes, I'd feel much the same way." As she took the boy called Zuko's pulse, she cast her eyes over his body, taking in the torn and tattered clothes, along with the crisscrossing pattern of lines of dried blood on his back. "Was your brother whipped?"

She glanced back at the girl, in time to watch her look away, her eyes filled with something that could only be called _shame._ "Yes," the girl said, as if the word was going to choke her. "He…a hundred lashes, dealt out in batches of twenty until it was done."

"The fuck?" Sokka said, his eyes bulging wide. "What in the name of La would warrant him a hundred lashes?"

"The penalty for disobedience to one's father in the Fire Nation is fifty lashes," the girl said, her voice empty, hollow, as cold as the wind that whistled through the town. "He got fifty for his own disrespect, and fifty for mine."

"Why'd he get your lashes?" Sokka asked, steadfastly ignoring Katara's attempts to silence him with a glare.

The girl deflated, right before their eyes. "Because I defied our father, but before I could be punished, Zuko, he…he said he'd take the punishment in my place."

Sokka let out a low whistle, snatching the sword out of the snow as he stood up and went over to where Katara was trying to get the sack off of the boy's head. "Fuck, that's harsh. Your father sounds like a real Grade-A bastard."

The girl just scoffed, though less _royal_ than before, or so Katara thought. "Trust me, you have no idea."

"I would imagine so," Sokka said, crouching down beside the boy and going to work on his bindings. "Though, while we're on the subject, do me a favor and don't make me regret loosening your bindings, okay?"

The girl gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Tell you what: Help my brother, and I'll make whatever promise you want."

"Word." Sokka looked up at Katara. "How is he?"

Katara could only shake her head. "If I can get this sack off his head, I'll know more. For now, all I can say is that he's alive, and that they've both been through hell. Hey, Azula?"

"Hmm?"

"Is that all your father did, the whipping?"

This time, the pause was distinctly ominous. "Why don't you get that stupid sack off his head and see for yourself?"

Katara nodded, snatched the dagger from her brother's hand, and simply cut the sack off. What came next, she could barely put into words. Her heart fell right through the pit of her stomach and came to rest somewhere in her boots. Her hand flew to her mouth, and the blood drained from her face. There was a roaring in her ears, and somewhere, her brother muttered an oath that even a sailor would have considered blasphemous.

In that moment, in the seconds after she discovered what these two lost souls' father had down to the face of the boy named Zuko, she found herself thanking the gods for happenstance.

Then, she gave herself a shake, set her face in stone, began rattling off orders, and got to work.

* * *

Hey, guys! I'm _baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!_ And not only am I back, it's time for Zutara Week 2015! I _love_ Zutara Week, not least because I love all the lovely new fanart that pops up on DeviantArt. * _wink wink nudge nudge*_ Last year, I completely spaced Zutara Week, for a variety of reasons, mostly a combination of laziness and the fact that I was in the middle of getting married ( _not the best excuse, mind you; the big wedding's not until next summer, so last summer was all about getting the paperwork filed to go down to the courthouse_ ). But, as usual, I digress...

So, first thing's first: What have I been up to? Not all that terribly much, to be honest. _Romance of the Four Nations_ ended, I got cracking on an original project ( _which is still plugging along; this is just something I've wanted to do for **ages**_ ), there was a lot of family-related drama ( _long story, **trust me**_ ), my mom through this big kind of wedding shower for the wife and I, oh, and, what else...hmm...

 ** _OH YEAH THE WIFE AND I GOT A DOG YAY PRACTICE KID!_**

Her name is Shae, she's about two years old, she's a rescue, she's a Lab/Border Collie mix, and she's a getting a bit prissy, what with the constant attention and all, but at heart, she's pretty sweet. It hasn't been easy, but then again, what worthwhile is?

What else, what else...hmmm...oh! Wife and I are coming up on our one-year anniversary, which is pretty awesome! She's gearing up for the upcoming school year, we play with the dog, watch random movies on Netflix...not a bad summer, all told. That's about it on the personal front. Oh, and wife says hi!

As for the story...so, what the hell's going on here? Quite a bit, most of which will be explained over the course of the next week. For now, I'll tell you a bit about the genesis of my responses to this year's prompts. In essence, I've had this plot bunny ever since I got cracking on Ro4N: What if Ursa had died giving birth to Azula? Even for the rich and powerful back in the day, it was a big problem ( _shit, it's a big problem **NOW**_ ), so, what if Ursa had died? In this universe, Ozai gets remarried right away, to someone more like him ( _which is a frightening idea, I know_ ), and pops out another boy and a girl, heirs also more to his liking. This leaves Azula not getting the _Psycho Ozai Daddy Treatment,_ and take away her mental illness, well...her and Zuko and pretty close. Also, due to his new wife, Ozai's a lot more ruthless than in Canon, which is why Iroh won't be around, because man, do I like killing Iroh. Flash forward to when the siblings are 18 and 16, and they find themselves banished and dumped someplace where they're not likely to survive for wrong.

Too bad for Ozai that his lackeys dumped them within walking distance of Ms. _I Never Turn My Back on Those Who Need Me_ Katara, eh?

Which, man is a long road to travel, just to explain that I liked writing Non-Crazy Azula in Ro4N so much that I wanted to see what else I could do with the character...

Like I said, just about everything is explained in-story, so if anything's confusing now, feel to either ask, or just wait for the next day's prompt. Speaking of which...

In the next chapter, a Vigil! Stay tuned!


	2. Vigil

Another Quick Pre-Note: So, it appears that, like the dope that I am, I started Zutara Week a day early. Part of this is due to my strange compulsion for trying to meet any writing challenge fast and way ahead of time, but mostly it's due to the fact that I forgot that Zutara Week is international, and in the rest of the world, the week starts on Monday, not Sunday. Bone-headed move on my part, I know, but you know what? _Fuck it._ Might as well roll with it, right? _On with the show!_

Quick Double Edit: The very kind Hyuki of the Wind pointed out an error in how I'd transcribed _Teru no Uta._ At first, I was all, _Meh, can't win 'em all,_ but then I found myself constantly looking at the story, and then it was gnawing at me, and then I went and scoped out the page where I found the lyrics written out in the Latin alphabet, and sure enough, I typed it down wrong. Then I was all, _Look, dude, two letters out of place isn't the end of the goddamn world,_ but then it kept bothering me in the shower and in the grocery store aisle and then haunting me as I had a post-shower smoke break and I just had to come back and fix it. So...ta da!

* * *

 **Vigil**

KATARA WOKE TO THE SOUND OF SINGING.

At first, she didn't say anything, didn't even move, mostly because she wasn't entirely sure if she was actually awake or not. The past four days, ever since the fugitives from the Fire Nation had been all but dropped at her feet by fate, had been like that, a blurred garble of images that flickered before her eyes whether she wanted them to or not. All she could really remember were moments, snatches of conversation, the weight of exhaustion as it tugged at her eyelids. She remembered Sokka delivering a tongue-lashing to the boys who had brought the fugitives in, remembered how he forced them to help her carry them to the isolation hut, the closest thing her people had to a prison. She remembered the way the girl called Azula had wolfed down any food they gave her, bent over her bowl like a puppy that had been beaten one too many times, but always eating with impeccable table manners, as if they were not just second-nature, but _instinct she could do nothing about_. She remembered watching herself as if she was a spectator in a play, watching as she rattled off orders, frantically trying to heal the damage that had been done, desperately trying to hold her frayed nerves and volatile temper in check.

She even remembered the last time the boy called Zuko had spoken. She could see it now, as if it had just happened, rather than two days before, hear him as he slowly opened the only eye that remained to him, cracked a strange, wistful smile, and muttered something in Nihongo. Katara had tried to smile back, turning to Azula, the little sister who never left her brother's side for more than a few moments, and then only when nature forced her to. _He wants to know if you were the girl who shouted, right before he passed out._

Katara had nodded. _Yeah, that was me._

Azula relayed it back to her brother, whose smile had grown as he muttered something else and drifted off into sleep once more. Azula had gone bright red, and it took quite a bit of prodding to get her to finally say, _He…heh…he says that you're as beautiful as your voice promised you would be._

It was a long time before Katara managed to stop blushing.

And so their vigil went on, day and night, Azula staring at her brother, eating food when it was given to her and drinking ungodly amounts of tea, Katara growing increasingly frustrated as the boy's wounds began to well and truly scar. They rarely spoke, or, at least, Azula rarely spoke, contenting herself with monosyllabic responses and the occasional sentence, before lapsing back into stony silence. Sometimes, it drove Katara mad, the way the girl just sat there and brooded, for all that Katara understood the reasons why.

And now, wonder of wonders, not only was Azula talking, she was actually _singing._

 _Yuuyami semaru kumo no ue  
Itsumo ichiiwa de tonde iru  
Taka wa kitto kanashi karou  
Oto mo todaeta kaze no naka  
Sora wo tsukanda sono tsubasa  
Yasumeru koto wa deki nakute…_

It went on like that, for what felt to Katara like a very long time. She didn't understand a single word, couldn't even _begin_ to guess what it was about, but, somehow, she found herself feeling moved to the brink of tears. Azula had a lovely singing voice, filling each syllable with ache and pain and heartbreak. There was a longing in that song, a plea for happier days, for a homeland Katara suspected these two didn't expect to ever see again, a lament for dreams that could no longer be dreamed. It hurt, listening to that song, and yet, Katara couldn't bring herself to try and stop it. She sat up in her chair, eyes locked on Azula, unable to look away. The girl just looked so…so _sad_ , huddled under several thick blankets, gazing at her brother, looking small and alone.

This was not the Azula that Katara had come to know. The other Azula had a bearing that could only be called _regal,_ an air of determination, a set to her jaw and her eyes that said that she was not beaten, and never would be, come what may. This Azula, though…

 _She just looks like a little girl, sad and alone and oh so very far away from home…_

"So, what'd you think?"

Katara blinked, startled; she hadn't even noticed that the song had ended. She pushed aside her thoughts, did her best to wipe her eyes without appearing to do so, turned her attention back to her patient, since Azula seemed determined not to look her in the eye.

"That…" Katara took a deep, damp breath, let it out. _Thank the gods Sokka didn't walk in just now; I'd be hearing_ _ **over-emotional women**_ _jokes for gods-damn_ _ **days.**_ "That was…you have a beautiful singing voice, Azula. One of the most beautiful I've ever heard." She paused, why, she didn't know, she knew by now not to expect Azula to respond to praise, _it's like no one's ever given her a compliment._ "What was…what was that song?"

There came the sound of sipping, and the sound of silence. Katara tried not to feel awkward, she really did, heaving herself out of the chair and bending over Zuko, checking his pulse and his bandages and a dozen other things to occupy the quiet.

When Azula spoke, Katara just about jumped.

"It's a lullaby, a really old one. Just about every kid in the Fire Nation knows that song. I…I always used to sing it for Zuko, when…when we'd had a really bad day. I don't know why, but it…it always helped."

Katara nodded, working hard to keep her excitement in check; this was, after all, the most Azula had spoken at one time since her and her brother had, ahem, _arrived._ "I had a feeling; it had a lullaby-like feel to it. Did your mother teach it to you?"

Another pause, even longer this time, until Katara felt her face burn in embarrassment. _Gods, I'm as bad as Sokka, I swear; can't_ _ **ever**_ _say the right thing with these two._ She ran out of things to distract herself with, wandered over to the hearth, threw a couple more logs into the fire. She was heading back to her chair and her own blanket when Azula spoke again.

"No, one of our nannies taught me that, when I was little. She always used to sing it to me, said it was the only thing that could make me stop crying if my brother wasn't available to hold me."

Katara nodded, feeling rather stupid as she did so. She settled down into her chair, wrapped herself tight in the blanket, tried to look anywhere but at the younger girl to her right. "Oh…and your mother…?"

Another pause, another sound of tea being sipped, another swallow. "My mother died giving birth to me, or, at least, that's how the story goes. Zuko was only two, so neither of us ever knew her."

Katara had nothing to say to this, _couldn't_ say anything to this. She was gone, far away. Dread gripped her heart and sent rivers of ice through her veins. Her head felt fuzzy, hot, her mouth became dry as paper. An unbearable tightness took hold of her chest, made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do much of anything beyond sit there and try not tremble.

 _Ten years…the last raid, before Azulon died and Ozai decided we weren't worth the trouble anymore…black snow falling from the sky…running, running, Sokka carrying me, not answering any of my questions, running for the hills with the children and the elderly…Mother, standing in the town square, calling the water and the snow to her…women holding spears and knives and rusted swords…her last words to me a lie…_

 _ **Don't worry, everything's going to be fine. You just go with your brother, and I'll see you when it's all settled, okay? I love you, sweetheart.**_ _A kiss, a whisper in my ear…_

 _ **Never forget: Everything I do, I do for the two of you…**_

Katara screwed her eyes shut, looked away, desperately hoped she wasn't crying. She hated crying, hated feeling small and weak and helpless.

It hurt when she couldn't even control her own emotions.

"What…what do you mean, _at least that's how the story goes_?"

She felt Azula turn, felt the _look,_ didn't have to see the girl to hear the sigh and the shrug as she looked back to her brother.

"Just a theory of mine, is all. Our…our _father,_ he…he never wanted to marry our mother, only did it because Grandmother had made the match before she passed and so Grandfather insisted. When Mother died, Father already had her replacement lined up, was remarried before the ashes on Mother's pyre were cold."

"You…you think your father somehow killed your mother?"

Katara turned back to Azula, somehow got her eyes open again, just in time to catch another shrug, a shrug that was almost heartbreaking in its resignation.

"This is my father we're talking about. He poisoned Grandfather – who had it coming, sure, but _still_ – and he poisoned Uncle and I wouldn't put it past him to have arranged to have my cousin killed in battle. Making sure my mother didn't survive my birth would be pretty well within the scope of his insanity."

Katara fought down another attack of emotions, turned back to the boy called Zuko. "Oh…but…why didn't he just kill you and your brother?"

"Honestly? I haven't the faintest idea. Maybe even Father has a line or two he dares not cross. That, or he was biding his time, on the off-chance that my half-brother didn't turn out the way Father wanted."

Katara sank deeper into her chair, wrapping her blanket as tightly as possible around herself. The fire crackling in the hearth was strong and fierce, and the hut was far from cold, none of which in any way alleviated the chill she felt in her very soul.

"The Fire Nation has taken a lot from you, hasn't it?"

"Yeah…that's one way to put it, I suppose…"

"That's something we have in common, then…"

For the second time that night, Azula looked at her, and, when Katara turned to face the girl, their eyes met, for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun. Katara never could put words to what passed between them in that moment, there at the bottom of the world in the middle of the night, but somehow, in the months and years that followed, Katara would always feel that it had begun, right then and there.

That, in that moment, when Katara truly came to accept these strangers from the nation of the people who had murdered her mother as, not oddities or people in need, but as honest-to-La _human beings,_ her life changed.

That would be the moment, in the middle of their long vigil, that Katara first felt the stirrings of her destiny.

It was in that moment, right there and then, that Katara decided that she really needed to get to know a boy called Zuko, because, well…if a girl like Azula had such fierce devotion to him, he had to be something very, very special.

 _And I never did like any of the local boys anyways…_

* * *

 _AND SO IT BEGINS._ Man, I just kick the shit out of Zuko in every fic I write, don't I? Though this time around, everyone's on the merry-go-round.

Not too terribly much to comment on here; the chapter is pretty self-explanatory, or, at least, I think so. A lot of other potential lingering questions will probably be answered tomorrow, so I'll stop there before I spoil my own story. I guess the biggest thing to comment on would be the way I changed how Kya went down. I mean...I dunno, it always rubbed me the wrong way, how she died on her knees. That doesn't sound like the mother of a girl like Katara to me, you know? So, she became a powerful waterbender, the wife to a chief, leader of the women whose job it is to defend the village when the men are away.

Which, by the way, is how most tribal societies actually work. What we think of as _gender norms_ are pretty meaningless, when everyone's poor and has to work together to get by.

One final note: The song Azula sings is _Teru no Uta,_ otherwise known as _Teru's Song,_ from Studio Ghibli's _Tales of Earthsea._ I'm kind of in love with it, the movie, the scene, and the song, and the second I watched that movie in subs with my wife was the moment when this little story finally came together. I really like how it came out.

Moving on! In tomorrow's installment, there are some clandestine shenanigans and, of course, some feels. Stay tuned!


	3. Clandestine

Quick Pre-Note: Zutara Week continues, and I continue to be a day ahead in my prompts! _Woo!_ As usual, since this is a Zutara Week submission, _there be dragons and adult language ahead!_ That said, _read on!_

* * *

 **Clandestine**

"HEY, ZU-ZU, REMIND ME: HAVE I TOLD YOU LATELY HOW MUCH OF AN IDIOT YOU ARE?"

Not for the first time since he had come out of his little coma, Zuko found himself feeling rather grateful that whatever their Father's men had given them to block their bending hadn't fully worn off yet. _Otherwise, you might very well be on fire right now, my lovely little sister._ It really did amaze him sometimes, how quickly they'd settled back into their lifetime-long love of bickering with each other. _Was it really only five months ago that I woke up, smiled, and was rewarded with Azula leaping on top of me and throwing her arms around me, screaming,_ _ **For the love of the fucking GODS, Zuko, don't you DARE ever do that to me again!**_ _And she even cried! I didn't dream it; Katara backs me up!_

As it was, though, she was still his little sister, and he'd already taken a whipping and a ball of fire to the face for her, why stop enduring hardship for her now? _Besides, she'd probably just do some crazy, technically impossible move that would render my attack useless._

"As a matter of fact, _Zula,_ " he replied, pinching his nose and shaking his head, "you have. Just today, actually."

Azula responded to that with a thoughtful look and a deep, profound-looking nod. "But have I reminded you in the past hour?"

"Oddly enough, no."

"Well then: You're a fucking idiot, Zu-Zu."

"Thank Agni you told me; otherwise, I might start to develop some confidence."

"I'll let you develop that when you grow a pair and give Katara a gods-damn kiss already."

He took a moment just then to thank the gods that it was the middle of the night, otherwise, he'd never live down the blush that he felt blossoming to life on his face. After all, his sister was absolutely right: He _desperately_ wanted to kiss Katara. She was smart, funny, confident, beautiful, and what was worse, lately there had been this glimmer in her eyes whenever she looked at him, a faint sheen that seemed to be trying to tell him that a kiss wouldn't be unwelcome.

Thing was, though…he'd never actually _kissed_ a girl, now, had he? The closest he had ever come was back at the Academy when he was sixteen, after Father had threatened to buy him a concubine if Zuko didn't _go become a man already,_ as Father had put it. _I let some of the guys drag me into town with them, went to that brothel. I pumped myself up, got all ready, and then, once I was alone in the room with the girl, well…_

He sighed. He had lost his nerve, simple as that. He had felt dirty and dishonorable, and ended up paying the girl triple to brag far and wide about how incredible he had been. _And every couple of months or so afterwards, until I graduated, I went to that same girl and kept paying her well to not have sex with me, because at least the rumors got Father off my back._

The left side of his face twitched, and he swallowed a grimace. _For all the good it did me…_

"Look," he said, trying to talk softly, hoping against hope that his sister would get the message and quiet down herself, _we're supposed to be all sneaky about this, remember?_ "How about you stop giving me shit about a girl who will never be the slightest bit interested in me and start handing down the gods-damn boats already?"

He opened his eye, just in time to watch his sister shake her head, looked decidedly _bemused._ "Gods, Zu-Zu, you really are a moron, aren't you?" She disappeared for a moment, and when she popped back into the window, she was holding out one of the little boats they had managed to scrape together for the ceremony that night. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Sister," he said, giving her a nice little bow before taking the boat, setting it down, and reaching out to take the next one.

"Still don't see why we couldn't just, you know, _ask_ if we could observe the Bon Festival tonight," Azula muttered as she handed out the third and last boat and bent down for the rest of their supplies.

"Because," he said, sitting the boat down beside the others and reaching out for the satchel of supplies, "we couldn't take the chance that Chief Hakoda would refuse."

"Right," Azula said, handing over the satchel and beginning the process of levering herself through the window of the isolation hut that had been their home for what sometimes felt like far longer than five months, "because then we'd be _honor-bound_ to not _honor_ our ancestors."

Zuko slung the satchel over his shoulder, nodding at the way the bottle of ice wine Sokka had filched for them clinked inside. "Exactly. I'm glad you're finally beginning to see things my way."

Azula scoffed as she came down into the snow under the window, performing the whole maneuver like she was being graded for it. "Don't start putting words in my mouth, _Brother._ I still think you're being _super_ retarded about all of this."

Zuko rolled his eye, bending down to grab one of the boats while Azula took the other two. "Kiss my ass, Zula. I'm right and you know it. Just because we've been banished, doesn't mean we have to forget what it means to be Fire Nation. _Honor before reason-"_

 _"And death before dishonor,"_ Azula finished, polishing off the age-old phrase with a roll of her eyes and a mocking, sing-song lilt to her voice. "Trust me, _I remember._ So," she continued, pausing to get a good grip on the boats under her arms, "where to next, Zu-Zu?"

He sighed, clucking his tongue as he shook his head. "Young people these days, I swear. No respect." He looked up at the sky, turning until he had a good fix on which way was west. "Right, so, we head out that way, get beyond the town, hook north, and-"

"You know," came an amused-sounding voice in Inuktitut, "I honestly can't decide whether to be happy or kind of sad that sibling bickering sounds the same in every language."

The first thing Zuko felt was surprise; indeed, he was so startled that he just about dropped the boat, thus ruining a good two months of painstaking clandestine work. _Which would be just like me, really._ The second thing Zuko felt was elation, because there she was, the girl who had been haunting his dreams for months now, dreams that he didn't dare tell even his sister about, because many of them were _far_ from what could be called _honorable._ The third thing Zuko felt was something that could only be called _swooning,_ because the way her dark brown hair billowed in the breeze, all while her eyes seemed to _glow_ with the light of the moon and the stars, rendered her even more outrageously beautiful than usual. Thus, as naturally as that very same moon follows the sun through the sky, did Zuko arrive at fear, because, see, _she was here, and oh gods, what does that mean, what should I do, what is it Sokka's always saying, be cool, be cool,_ _ **be cool-**_

The fifth and final thing Zuko felt, however, was unbridled fury, as he watched, dumbfounded, as his sister cracked one of her ever-famous, ever-infuriating smiles, and said, in her most flippant voice ( _which was saying something_ ), "Oh, hey, Katara. Wanna give me a hand with these boats?"

Katara cracked a smile right back. "Why, don't mind if I do." Zuko watched, speechless, his mouth hanging open, looking like a complete idiot and not being able to do a thing about it, as Katara walked over, took one of the boats from under Azula's arm, and said, sounding just as nonchalant as Azula, "Sorry I'm late, by the way. Gran-Gran took _forever_ to finally go to bed."

Azula shrugged. "It's all good; everything turned out alright in the end. Oh, and while we're on the subject, thanks for talking your Dad into taking the guards off the hut."

Katara brushed the comment away. "Don't mention it; it wasn't all that hard, really. I just found a moment when he was in a good mood and pointed out that it was silly, having you two watched day-and-night. I mean, what did he think you were going to do, run off?"

Azula rolled her eyes. " _Men._ Where the hell would we run off to? It's not like we have anywhere to go…oh, hey, Zu-Zu! You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

It felt like a long time had passed before Zuko realized that his sister had spoken to him. He uttered a silent prayer to the gods in thanks for the fact that it ( _he most ardently hoped_ ) was too dark for Katara to notice how much he was blushing, then gave himself a shake and turned off towards the west. "Whatever, let's just go. Oh, and thanks for coming, Katara. It…um…uh…it…heh… _it means a lot…"_

"Don't give me too much credit," Katara said, as she slid into position to his right, Azula taking a spot just beyond her. "I mean…heh…sneaking off with a cute boy and his awesome-crazy sister? I'd have to be an idiot to miss out on _that._ "

Zuko had thought that nothing else could _possibly_ surprise him that night, but in that moment, he learned that he was _fantastically_ wrong. He narrowly avoided tripping over his own feet, and he was fairly certain that his jaw was brushing against the thin layer of snow that covered what he could only presume was grass. "I...um… _cute…?"_

It turned out that the night was indeed full of wonders, just like Uncle always used to tell him, as Katara's eyes went wide and one of her hands clapped onto her mouth. She even seemed to be blushing, but that couldn't be the case, _surely I'm the only one who's an awkward fool here tonight._ "I…uh…heh…well…uh… _I might not have meant to say that out loud…"_

From off to Katara's right, Azula laughed, loud and full, heedless of the fact that the key word for tonight's proceedings was _supposed_ to be _clandestine._ "Oh, gods, you two, you're adorable, you know that?"

Katara just seemed to get more awkward, while Zuko shot his sister a glare and said, in Nihongo, "Hey, Zula? You're dead to me."

Azula shot him a wink and an air kiss. "I love you, too, Zu-Zu."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

* * *

For Katara, that night was one of emotion, a collision of conflicting feelings that left her feeling so dizzy it felt like she was drunk ( _which couldn't have been the case anyways, they'd only had half the bottle of ice wine, the rest had been poured into the fire in sacrifice_ ). She learned so much, discovered so much, didn't even care how little of the rituals made the least bit of sense. It was like a window was being opened for her, right here at the bottom of the world, a glimpse into the great beyond, just out of reach, the vast _everything_ that stretched off away from these shores where she had lived all her life, the _Great Big Something_ that she had hungered for all her life.

Though, what really surprised her, more than anything else, was just how _familiar_ everything was. Sure, the prayers were uttered in a different tongue, and the ceremonies all revolved around fire, but beyond that, so much was…well… _the same._ The Bon Festival, she had learned, served two purposes: One was to herald the end of the winter and the coming of spring, while the other was to honor those one had lost. Her own people had a similar ceremony, the Glacier Spirits Festival, only on the winter solstice, and involving a lot of water. Beyond that, though, it was all the same. There was sacrifice to the gods, prayers and songs, a feast ( _which in this case was small, but it was the thought that counted_ )…hell, there was even dancing!

The dancing was Katara's favorite part. She loved to dance, could dance all night if she was allowed, and she often was. She watched, spellbound, as the banished siblings performed an intricate, stately, very formal dance together, one that apparently went back eons. But then, Azula laughed, and pushed her brother towards Katara, and demanded that Zuko show Katara how people _really_ danced at the Bon Festival. Zuko spluttered and muttered and mumbled, until Katara couldn't take it anymore, she wanted to _dance, dammit._ She stood up, took him by the hand, and smiled, hoping that she wasn't blushing as much as he was.

"Well?" she said. "Are we going to dance or what?"

"Heh…" He cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck, even his dead, milky-white left eye looking terrified. "Well…um…if you really want to…"

She laughed, and started leading him over to the little bonfire they had put together. "Oh, shut up and dance with me!"

The dance was lively, full of spins and twirls and jumps and laughter. First her and Zuko danced, then her and Azula, then all three of them, endless combinations, spinning and spinning and laughing and smiling and Katara doing her best to pretend neither of the other two were wiping tears from their eyes.

That night, Katara experienced, for the first time, what it would be like to not be stuck in a little town at the bottom of the world, and she loved every minute of it.

Even the sad parts.

* * *

The final act involved the boats.

They were little things, flimsy, not particularly well-built, cobbled together from odds-and-ends that Azula had charmed Sokka into fetching for her. In each was placed a little candle, Katara's gift to her new friends, and each candle was lit with a stick from the bonfire, because, as Zuko explained, bending was forbidden for this part of the festival. Each of them took a boat, walked to the shore, carefully set them in the water, and gave them the push they needed to start floating off into the night.

Three boats, for three loses. One for a Mother, one for a Cousin, one for an Uncle. Katara asked if she could put the boat for their mother into the sea, and nobody offered any argument. She was sobbing as she set the boat free. She didn't want to, didn't want to cry like this, she felt like she shouldn't, that it wasn't right, to feel so sad during a ceremony that wasn't supposed to be for her, but she couldn't help herself. The way the tiny flame flickered in the tiny boat, the way it slowly faded into darkness, it just…

 _It just_ _ **hurt…**_

It had been a long time since she had missed her mother as badly as she did that night.

How they all came to stand together, Zuko's arms around each of their shoulders, none could say. It just felt…it felt _right. Natural,_ even. They stood together, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were now part of that strange, wonderful, frightening thing called _friendship,_ held each other close, cried openly, and listened to Azula sing.

 _Hikaru umi ni kasumu fune wa  
Sayonara no kiteki nokoshimasu  
Yurui saka wo orite yukeba  
Natsu iro no kaze ni aeru kashira  
Watashi no ai sore wa melody  
Takaku hikuku utau no  
Watashi no ai sore wa kamome  
Takaku hikuku tobu no  
Yuuhi no naka yonde mitara  
Yasashii anata ni aeru kashira…_

By the time Azula finished, the boats were gone, vanished from sight, but still they could not look away. There was silence, deep and profound, the only sound the lap of the waves on the shore, until the quiet was broken. Zuko began to sing. His song was much shorter than his sister's, and his voice was nothing to write home about, slightly cracked and very out-of-tune, but no less heartfelt for that.

 _Asahi o abita oka no ue no  
Kotachi ni umoreta furui ie  
Asafuku kaze ni omoitakushi  
Kyou mo mata kimi w ahata o ageru…_

When he finished, he bowed his head, and somehow, for once, he wasn't embarrassed. He had never sang a song in front of anyone other than his sister before, and never alone. He had always been a group, like at the Academy, standing with his arms around his friends and their arms around him, belting out songs of boyhood and hope for the future and dreams of glory in a war none of them wanted to fight, though none of them wanted to be left behind.

And that's when Katara began to sing. She sang in her tribe's dialect, sang a song her mother had taught her, oh so very long ago it felt sometimes. Her voice was perfectly suited for the song, rising and falling, thrumming with the beat of the sea and the heart of the moon. She didn't tell them what it meant, but then again, they didn't have to ask. Wasn't it obvious? It was a song of hope, and loss, and longing, to be shared with friends at the end of the world.

Or, perhaps, the beginning.

* * *

And on we go! Though you guys are lucky that I managed to get this up today, and managed to get it reasonably edited ( _I hope)._ The wife and I had a big day yesterday, starting with a big walk for the dog and then a bunch of chores capped off with hopping in my parents' pool with my brother and swimming around for, like, four hours. We're both ridiculously worn out and kind of sore, even the dog seems a bit down for, so my brain's kind of operating on half-power right now.

Which is a really long route to take to say, _If I messed up the typing out of the songs, I apologize in advance._

I gotta say, I really like how this has all come together; it's pretty kickass. I mean, there's also a fuckton of feels, but something I really wanted to go for was that mix of _fun_ and _feels_ that the show always did pretty well ( _though not always; I'm looking at **you,** that episode with the two tribes and the canyon). _So far, I like think I've got a pretty solid handle on things.

A couple of things before we move on: First off, what's up with the tribe's schedule? Well, the SWT always read like a non-centralized, tribal sort of society, which means that _long protracted organized campaigns_ of the kind the other nations pull off aren't really their thing. In this AU-ish fic, basically, every spring, the warriors go off to raid Fire Nation shipping, isolated military bases, pick off warships that are on their own, that kind of thing, while each tribe takes a turn guarding Chameleon Bay and thus keeping the Fire Nation from coming up on Ba Sing Se from that big river it sits on. A lot of it was a response to the Azulon's raids; this way, the warriors are never very far from home, nevermind that the women and younger kids definitely know how to defend themselves.

Why isn't Ozai continuing Azulon's raids? Well, let's be honest: Occasional raids would amount to pinpricks, the kind of thing Ozai would thing not worth his time. He's kind of an arrogant bastard like that.

Second off, the songs: Azula sings _Sayonara no Natsu,_ from _From Up on Poppy Hill,_ while Zuko sings...well...I honestly can't remember the song Zuko's supposed to be singing. It's from a Studio Ghibli movie, I know that much, but beyond that, all I have is an important lesson in _making notes about important shit_.

Though, on the other hand, my search for the right song has resulted in my wife and I wandering around the apartment, humming Studio Ghibli songs, so, you know, not a total loss.

As stated above, I apologize if I typed something out wrong; feel free to point out, though, please, be nice. As for Katara's song, I searched high-and-low for an Inuit-language song with the lyrics in the original language, but simply couldn't find any. I found plenty of songs written out in English, but let's just say that the websites I found them on didn't fill me with much faith in the work. This is a moment I will totally turn to you guys: If you can find me a song that's both in Inuit, and with lyrics I can copy down in Inuit, I will be totally happy to come in, make a quick edit, and give Katara something to sing.

You'll also get a _HUGE_ shout-out, as one does.

Alright, that is an entirely too long AN. Moving on! In the next chapter, we get some fluff while Zuko and Katara talk about their dreams. Also, eventually, more Sokka. Stay tuned!


	4. Rue

Quick Pre-Note: Man, I'm not sure why I keep doing the _pre-notes._ I'm pretty sure no one's coming here from Tumblrland. I mean, if you are, totally let me know, that's part of the reason I got that thing (and because Zutara Week is partially run through Tumblr). ANYHOO, where was I...right! Trigger warnings! _Adult language lurketh around yonder page break!_

* * *

 **Rue**

IT WASN'T UNTIL TWO MONTHS AFTER THEIR LITTLE BON FESTIVAL THAT IT FINALLY HAPPENED.

Much and more had happened in those two months. A week after their festival, with Katara's guidance and urging, Zuko and Azula had gone to Chief Hakoda and officially asked to become members of the tribe. They had already told him their story, all of it, every last detail, leaving nothing out, but this time, there was something different, something even Hakoda couldn't quite put his finger on. The elders of the tribe had grumbled, of course. _Allow citizens of the Fire Nation into our tribe? And not just that, but the children of Ozai the Butcher **himself?!** The horror!_

But in the end, Hakoda could not deny them. It was his children who broke the back of his people's resistance, Katara who stood and vouched for the siblings. _They have nowhere to go,_ she said, defiant and proud, her mother reborn, while Sokka threw an arm around her and said, _And besides, last I checked, we have never been ones to punish decent people for the crimes of their ancestors._

Then Hakoda took one look into his daughter's eyes, saw the gleam, the spark that he knew only too well, and decided that it was time, at the very least, to take the boy called Zuko and the girl called Azula out of the isolation hut.

They were moved into the longhouse set aside for orphans, since Hakoda had decided that, from then on, that is what they would be. Their father, who had hurt them at least as badly as he had hurt Hakoda himself, if not worse, would no longer be held against them. They were allowed to practice their bending, to walk freely, to immerse themselves in the tribe. Azula began working alongside Katara and some of the other women, teaching reading and writing and anything else she was asked to teach. Zuko put his years at the Fire Nation's Royal Military Academy to good use, sharing all he knew of swords and spears and warfare with the men of the tribe. Before even a month had passed, even those who had been the most bitterly opposed to Hakoda's decision had started to admit that they might have been in the wrong.

Other things happened, too, mostly involving a boy and a girl. Zuko and Katara began to spar with each other, as often as they possibly could. Katara, it seemed, spent every spare moment with him, talking to him, teaching him her tribal dialect while he taught her his own tongue. They laughed together, ate together, became close.

But there was still a war on, and with the spring and the passing of the winter storm season, it was time for the raiding season to begin. This time, Sokka went out upon the waves with his father, leaving Bato, Hakoda's brother, as temporary chief. The town was stripped of men, and every day a boy sat in a watch tower, high up in the sky, scanning the horizon, ready at a moment's notice to take up his warhorn and sound the call to arms.

And every day, like clockwork, as the sun began to fade from the sky, a boy named Zuko and a girl named Katara walked along the shore. At first, they just walked, together, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing.

When they moved from that, to walking arm-in-arm, her head upon his shoulder, his cheek laid on the top of her head, neither of them could ever say.

* * *

"What is your dream, Zuko?"

Zuko pondered her question for a long time. They were standing on a little hill just behind the shoreline, at what had become their favorite spot to stop, sit down, and talk. They sat very close together, arms wrapped tight around each other, enjoying what passed for spring at the bottom of the world. To Zuko, it still felt rather chill, though the snow was gone from the land and the sun shined bright enough to warrant shedding one's jacket during the middle of the day.

That said, it was, he had to admit, almost heartbreakingly beautiful. There was something about the sunsets here in this land, something he could not put into words, that made them different from every sunset he had ever seen. A way that the sea stretched off into the distance, on and on and on, the waves sparkling like fire in the light of the setting sun.

 _Or maybe,_ he mused to himself, _it's just the company._ He gave Katara a light squeeze, a squeeze that she returned, since he would never, not in a million years, be able to gather the nerve to say something like that to her face. _Because that's me, Zuko. I defied my own father, the Fire Lord himself, and never even blinked, but ask me to talk to a beautiful girl I'm falling head-over-heels for, and I'm a stuttering fool._

No doubt it would have come as shock to him that Katara was thinking along much the same lines.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

In his arms, Katara shrugged. "I guess…I dunno…what do you want from life?"

 _Besides you? Not all that much, really; that seems more than enough to ask the gods for._ Again, he didn't say that out loud. He never did, saving all of his best lines for when he and his sister settled down for the night in the room that they shared. Azula, naturally, made endless mockery of him for it, endlessly repeating her constant refrain, _Just grow a pair and kiss her already._

Which, for the record, was pretty much what all of Katara's friends told her, on an almost daily basis. Sokka, for his part, before he left to go raiding with their father, just closed his eyes and tried to pretend that Zuko was just his _bud,_ rather than a potential brother-in-law.

"I want…heh…I want…I want to go home. The Fire Nation…it's not an evil place. It's ruled over by evil men, but the people aren't evil, and neither is the land. It's…it's so beautiful there, the mountains covered in trees, rice fields cut into the hills and valleys, the temples glittering in the sun…I miss it. I miss the few friends that I had, I miss having snowball fights with my sister in the courtyard of the Palace in winter, I miss…I just want to go home. I…heh…"

Katara tilted her head, looked up at him, smiled. "Go on. You know I won't judge you."

"Yeah," he admitted, smiling from ear-to-ear, "that's my sister's job. But…this is just…it's hard to put into words, but…I just want to go _home._ But…not just that, I want…I want to go home in _honor,_ with my head held high. I want to take my sister home, take her back to her friends, the friends she gave up for me, Mai and Ty and all the rest. I want…gods…I swear, if I start crying, don't laugh, but…I want to _take my country back._ I want to end the War, end this pointless, eternal suffering. I want to bring the soldiers back to their families, I want to…"

He took a deep breath, let it out, forced every syllable past the jagged lump of searing heat in his throat.

"I want to topple my father from his throne. I want to end the tyranny, the oppression. I want…I want to march into the throne room, side-by-side with my sister, and make him rue the day he cast us out."

"You…you want to redeem your homeland…"

"Yes…yes, that's a good way to describe it."

"Well, if anyone can do it, it's you and Azula, that's for damn sure."

"You…you really mean that?"

"Every word."

In the biggest understatement in the history of humanity, Zuko ignored the way his heart was beginning to race, pressed a soft kiss to Katara's forehead, and said, "That…that means the world to me."

Katara, hoping beyond hope that her face wasn't as red as it felt, did her best to keep her voice even as she said, "I do my best. _Someone's_ got to believe in you, besides your sister."

"Fair enough…what's your dream? What do you want from life?"

"Heh…you promise you won't laugh?"

"I just revealed my heartfelt desire to overthrow my father and bring an end to a century-long war, and you didn't even bat an eye. You're kidding, right?"

"Did you…did you just try to make a joke?"

" _Try_ is, I think, the operative word."

"You're adorable, you know that? Anyone ever tell you that?"

"A few of the nannies, when I was growing up. Oh, and my sister, but she normally means it as an insult."

"True…still…okay, here goes, and for the record, I've never told, like, _anyone_ this, not even my brother."

"Seriously?"

" _Seriously._ It's just…I love my homeland, okay? I love my home, and my people. I'm proud of who I am and where I grew up, of _how_ I grew up, even the ugly parts. But…it's just…I can't _stand_ the thought of spending the rest of my life, stuck down here, so far away from everything. I just want…I want to go _out there._ I want…no, I _need_ to see the world, all of it, the good and the bad. I want to learn all the languages, experience the traditions, I want… _I want to have a_ _ **Great Big Adventure,**_ the like of which the world has never seen. I want to _make my mark,_ and leave the world better than I found it. I just…heh…I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"No," he said, meaning every word, "you're making perfect sense. It's funny, really…we pretty much want the same thing…"

"Well, heh…" She took a moment to gather her courage and swallow the nerves that were rippling up from the pit of her stomach. "Maybe we can have a Great Big Adventure together…"

"I'd like that…though, for the record, I'm officially applying for the position of your sidekick."

"Aren't you already Azula's sidekick?"

"Meh, Sokka can be her sidekick. I'd rather be yours."

"I like that…"

"Heh…hey, Katara?"

"Yes, Zuko?"

"Did I…did we…did we just…um…you know…"

"Ask each other out? Yes, Zuko, we did. Now shut up and kiss me."

It was another month or so before they finally admitted to each other that it was the first kiss ever for both of them. There was, naturally, a lot of practice in between.

* * *

Ah, the combination of shameless fluff and unadulterated feels. Pretty much my specialty, you know? It's how I roll.

So, the wife and I were chatting last night about this current little project, and she asked to clarify something for her, namely, _did Azula learn a lesson from what's happened?_ After all, as my wife pointed out, her big mouth and mile-wide streak of spite is what got her and her brother into this situation, and yet she's still cracking wise and giving her brother a hard time. To that, I said, _Well...yeah, but Zuko wouldn't have her any other way._ He did what he did, went through what he went through, because he's a good big brother, and he probably figured that one _slightly morose, awkward, self-doubting doof_ was enough for their family.

But, Azula's hurting, and bad, but she's going to keep being her, because that's what her big brother wants.

Just tossing that out there.

Nothing else to add, really, so we'll move on! In the next chapter, we jump forward in time a bit, to where there are feels, a voyage, and a momentous occasion. Stay tuned!


	5. Voyage

Hello again! Hey, I haven't been reblogged from my Tumblr to the Zutara Week Tumblr page...any tips on how I can, like, make that happen? What else, what else...oh! _Hay lenguaje de adulto en esta ficcion_ (which my wife assures me is the proper phrasing).Moving on!

* * *

 **Voyage**

IT WAS, QUITE POSSIBLY, THE SINGLE MOST UNIQUE ICE-DODGING TRIAL THAT HAD EVER BEEN PERFORMED IN ANY OF THE SOUTHERN WATER TRIBES.

For one thing, there was the timing. It had been two years to the day since a boy named Zuko and a girl named Azula had been so unceremoniously dumped in the land of the Yuupik clan of the Southern Water Tribes. This lent an air of wistfulness to the proceedings, of wonder at how much time had passed, at how so much had changed.

Then, there were the participants. There were the Fire Nation siblings, of course, Zuko, now twenty, and Azula, now eighteen, royalty no more, but still looking every inch a prince and princess, no matter how hard at least one of them tried not to. They presented quite a sight, dressed in Water Tribe furs and colors, Zuko with his shaggy mop of hair pulled up into a plain Fire Nation topknot, Azula with her long, jet-black hair plaited into a tight Water Tribe braid, a style she had grown quite fond of. They were the ones on trial today, though they would have help. Chief Hakoda, back from the most recent season of raiding Fire Nation shipping, would sit in judgment, while his only daughter, Katara, would take the place of the third. This was unusual; women didn't typically participate in the ice-dodging trial. That said, though, these _were_ special circumstances, and besides, even Hakoda, Chief though he was, knew better than to try and sway his daughter when his mind was made up.

There was also the crowd. It felt like the entire tribe was there, eager to witness something that had never quite happened before, and that many doubted would ever quite happen again. All were eager for a break from the monotony of the endless War, to the steady bleeding, all hungry for anything to distract them from the fact that, no matter how successful a season of raids was, not every ship returned, and not every warrior came home.

Last but not least, there was the simple fact that no one had _ever_ seen a boy be so nervous and pale before a trial than the young former prince Zuko. It was cold, winter well on its way, and yet he was still covered in sweat, pale as fresh-fallen snow, his hands trembling almost uncontrollably. Many took pity on him, and more than a few considered pulling him aside and telling the best kept secret in the Southern Water Tribes, that the only requirement for passing an ice-dodging trial was to be willing to attempt it.

None did, of course. Keeping that secret was an ancient tradition, and besides, the young former princess Azula seemed to have her older brother well in hand. That girl looked the exact _opposite_ of nervous, calm and cool as a cucumber, steady as the tide, jaw out, head high, shoulders back, looking every inch the queen more than a few hoped she would have the chance to one day be.

And then, of course, there was one final detail, something that made this particular trial well and truly unique, which was the way the Fire Nation siblings prepared themselves that morning, for, rather than go receive the traditional blessings from the town's senior shaman, they instead went off on their own to greet the dawn.

* * *

They stood on a tall hill, he and his sister, just to the east of the town. The world was a sea of white, the first true snowfall of winter having come early once again, for the third year in a row. Rolling hills marched off into the distant horizon, a horizon smudged with a purple bruise, the sun still just a hint of color far to the east. There was a bracing chill to the air, a sharp breeze that cut at his face like the prick of a thousand knives. His ears burned, but he did not put his hood back up. He shoved his gloved hands deep into his pockets, allowed himself a single, violent shiver. Bending of any kind was discouraged, on the day one was to undertake the ice-dodging trial. Technically, it was only a taboo against waterbending, but Zuko had never been one to disregard things based on mere technicalities.

 _I'm still me,_ he thought. _I've come so far, accomplished more than I ever thought possible. The day we were cast out of the Palace was the day I was truly born. I've changed so much, traveled across great distances, to come to this spot, this place._

He smiled at the glimmer to the east. _But I'm still me. I'll always be me._

 _There's something be said for that._

"It really is beautiful here, isn't it, Zu-Zu?"

Zuko smiled, reached out, wrapped an arm around his sister, pulled her close. For once, she did not resist the show of affection, let him ruffle her carefully braided hair. He tried to remember the last time he had seen her put it up in her old, severe, tightly-wound bun, and found that he could not. _Just like the last time I was afraid._

 _Just like the last time I felt like anybody else but me._

"Yes," he admitted, eyes clapped on the horizon, "it is, isn't it?"

"I still miss home, though," Azula said, as she laid her head on his shoulder. "I don't miss…I mean…I don't miss where we _lived,_ but the Homeland? I miss that."

He sighed, wincing at the burning ball of white hot, knife-sharp emotion buried in the back of his throat. "I miss it, too. I miss the way the sun spilled over the mountains around Miyako. I miss the Gulf of Ise glittering at dusk. I miss the training marches through the valleys around Shu Jing, back at the Academy."

Azula nodded, wrapping her own arm around her brother's waist. "And the snows, the way it snowed in the winter. Nothing like here, but I loved watching the mountains in the winter light up like fire with the sunrise." She took a deep breath, and he heard the pain, the heartache, the memory of all that they had lost, when they had finally defied their father one too many times. "And our friends. Mai, Ty Lee, your buddies from the Academy, like Toru…"

He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. "Even Toshiro?"

She huffed. "Even Toshiro. Or, at least, his sisters. His sisters were fun. Remember that summer, you were seventeen, I was fifteen? Our last true summer…when Father let us spend the summer down in Sapporo, with Toshiro's family?"

He nodded. He could see it now, without having to even close his eyes, the wonders of the Fire Festival, the marking of the Summer Solstice, in the fabled _City of the Fire Fountains_ itself. He remembered all of them, Toru down from his family estate in the Sunset Isles, Toshiro, Zuko, Azula, Ty Lee ( _Mai's mother wouldn't let her_ come), Toshiro's sisters, dressing up like commoners, dancing and laughing through the cheering, drink-befuddled crowds in the streets.

 _But there was always darkness, lingering in the corners, wasn't there? The knowledge that our holiday could never last, the metsuke agents filtering through the crowd, the execution announcements, the draft notices, the dark looks in the eyes of those who had just been called up, the darker looks in those who had managed to return…_

 _Hollow-eyed men begging outside the temples, missing arms, legs, ears, eyes…_

 _Father's eyes, glowering down from his countless statues, watching us all…_

 _And just beyond our shores, a world on fire, a world gone mad…_

He shook his head, pushed it all away. He reached out with his mind, grabbed hold of the joy, the good memories, pulled them to his heart, held them close.

"Yeah, I remember." He felt a mischievous grin spread across his face. "Though, what I _really_ remember, was that one boy, oh, what was his name, the one you danced with, the one you couldn't stop talking about…"

Azula responded by giving him a sharp jab in the ribs. "I don't know what you're talking about." She jutted out her chin, no doubt looking proud and fierce, as only a princess could. "Besides, his name was Tadao, as you damn well know."

He laughed. "Oh, right, _Tadao._ He was cool."

"That's not what you said at the time…"

"Hey, what was I supposed to do, be _happy_ that my little sister got her first kiss before I did?"

"Well, _Mai_ would've been _more_ than happy to help you there."

He rolled his eye. "Yeah, because _that_ would've been a good idea."

"Hey, I didn't say _anything_ about _good ideas,_ Zu-Zu."

"You know," he said, letting his cheek settle softly atop her head, "one of these days, I'm going to make you an aunt, and you're going to have to stop calling me that."

She scoffed. "Says who?"

"Katara…?" he tried.

That earned another scoff. " _Please._ You forget that your wife-to-be and I are friends."

He sighed. "Yeah…real bonehead move on my part, that."

"Like you could've stopped me."

"Like I'd even try."

They settled into an easy silence, waiting for the sun to come, for the fire of Agni to spill out over the earth and into their blood, into their bones. His mind drifted, until, suddenly, it was a year before. He was sitting on a thick blanket, looking towards the east, watching the sun sink from the sky. Katara was between his legs, her back settled against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her, his chin nestled atop her head. He had never felt so at peace, in all his life. It was cold, but he didn't care. They hadn't even bothered to light a fire. They just… _were,_ Zuko and Katara.

Two hearts, beating as one, as it was always meant to be.

 _Why me?_ he had asked her.

He felt the frown in her voice. _What do you mean?_

 _Why me? Why did you choose me? I mean…you should hate me, if anything, not…not…not_ _ **like**_ _me. Why?_

She hadn't had to think about her answer for even a second. That was always the moment he would remember, when he well and truly fell.

 _Because…you get me. You understand me. You don't make demands of me, you just…_ _ **ask.**_ _You offered to be mine, if only I would be yours, and when I told you my hopes, my dreams, you didn't try to discourage me, I could see it in your eyes, you didn't even think about it. You just…you just_ _ **believed in me.**_ _You've always given me a choice, and that has made all the difference._ She paused, giggled, settled deeper into his embrace. _Plus, let's face it, you're damn fine without a shirt on._

He bit down on a sudden jolt of fear. _Hush. You want the whole tribe to know about…you know…_ _ **that?**_

She responded with another giggle. _Oh, settle down. I'm the chief's daughter, and you're a prince, at least, to us you are. Like anyone would ever suspect us of dishonorable behavior?_

 _My sister more than suspects…_

 _Heh…well, she_ _ **is**_ _your sister. Besides, who else helps you slip in through my window?_

 _You…you have me there._

 _So…you know, same question:_ _ **Why?**_ _Why me? You could, quite literally, have any girl in this tribe, but you chose me. Why?_

He would always feel proud of the fact that he didn't have to think about it, either.

 _Because you believe in me, too. Because you care for me unconditionally, even though you don't have to. Because you're strong and brave and fierce and smart. You're everything I ever wanted, before I even knew I'd wanted it all my life. And…you know…remember that day, when I broke down, told you want I wanted? My hopes, my dreams? You didn't recoil. You didn't blink. You just smiled and took my hands and told me that if anyone could do it, it was me, and you would be with me, every step of the way._

 _I meant every word._

 _I know…though, all of that pales next to one thing._

 _What's that?_

 _Heh…you're the only person who sees both my eyes, sees them and reads them._

 _Surely Azula does, too._

He shook his head. _Depends on the day. On a bad day, when she's feeling down, she can't bear to look at it. It hurts her too much._

 _It hurts me, too, Zuko._

 _Why don't you ever look away? Why do you go off on anyone who stares, or tries to avoid it?_

 _Because I love you._ _ **Duh.**_

He had sighed, and kissed her softly on the top of her head.

 _Always have to be first, don't you?_

She had answered with a savage nod. _Always._

His sister's voice pulled him from the memory. He blinked, turned, looked down at golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Huh?"

She laughed, giving him yet another poke in the ribs. "The sun's coming up, doofus. If you want to ask for Agni's blessing, now's the time."

He nodded, suddenly remembering what they had come here for. "Ah, _right._ Well…let's hope he doesn't mind being asked to bless two his children joining the Water Tribe."

"He better not say boo about it," Azula snarked, looking directly into the shimmering sliver of fire that was the rising sun, "or else I'll deprive him of a few teeth."

"If anyone could, Zula, it would be you."

"Damn straight."

And so it was, on the second anniversary of their arrival in their new home, they clapped their hands, calling the attention of the gods to their prayers, fell to their knees, pressed their foreheads to the ground. Together, they chanted the ancient prayers, calling for the blessings of their ancestors, of their gods, of Agni Himself, their family's mythical forebear. They broke two loaves of bread, a half in each of their hands, burned them in sacrifice, the only bending they would engage in that day. They completed the ritual prayers, bowed and pressed their foreheads to the ground three more times, rose, and clapped once more, to let the gods know that their prayers were over.

Then, they threw their hoods back over their heads, and headed down to the shore, arm-in-arm, loudly singing their uncle's favorite song, which was, of course, _The Girls from Ba Sing Se._

* * *

In the end, the trial was something of an anti-climax. Everything went smoothly, and by the end, even Hakoda was impressed, and he had judged more trials than he cared to think about, because it made him feel old.

For their part, Zuko and Azula were stunned; when it was over, they were surprised to discover that they didn't remember a single thing. The only thing Zuko truly remembered was when they got to shore, the moment wherein, after a nod of encouragement from Hakoda and a stuck-out tongue from his sister, Zuko turned to face Katara, got down on one knee, pulled out the betrothal necklace Sokka had helped him make, a purple stone on a blue-and-red striped ribbon, and asked Katara to marry him.

Or, at least, tried to. All he got out was about a minute's worth of stuttering and mumbling before Katara burst into tears, shouted _yes,_ and pulled him up into a kiss.

* * *

Azula felt a lot of things, as Katara pulled Zuko up off of his knee and planted a kiss on him that made even Azula feel a bit out-of-breath. Some were easy to put into words, like her eternal wonder at how those two could hold their breath for so long. Others were harder, like her struggle to understand why it was so hard for her to cry. None of these people were strangers; over the course of the past two years, she had even come to make real, honest-to-Agni _friends._ But, unless she was alone with either her brother or Katara, she just… _couldn't._

 _You always did take being a princess too seriously,_ Mai's voice whispered in her ear, while Ty Lee's giggle rang in the distance like chimes in the wind.

 _Yeah, yeah, I know._ _ **Bite me,**_ Azula said right back ( _though not out loud, of course_ ). Out loud, she couched her voice in her most imperious tones ( _which wasn't as hard to do in Yuupik as one would think_ ) and muttered, "About fucking time."

Beside her, Sokka chuckled. "I know, right? I was beginning to think we were going to have to go with Plan B." Plan B, of course, being their intricate plan to trick Zuko and Katara into finally getting hitched.

"Don't jinx it, you idiot," she drawled back. "There's still time for my brother to awkward his way out of this, somehow."

"And that's why siblings were invented," Sokka pointed out. "To save other siblings from themselves. Though, now that I think about it…" She didn't have to _see_ the jaunty little leer that was forming on his face to know it was there. "Plan C might still have some life left in it…"

"What, the one wherein we pretend to get married, only to shove my brother and your sister in front of the shaman at the last minute before they know what's up?" She rolled her eyes and shot him the bird. "Dream on, peasant boy."

Sokka turned to her and gave her a rather impressive bow, straight out of a Fire Nation etiquette book. "As you will, Your Highness."

To that, she just gave a savage nod. "Damn straight. Oh, and while we're here, your bowing still needs work."

"Whatever you say," Sokka replied, smiling from ear-to-ear. "Whatever you say…"

* * *

Well, that was a bit of a roller coaster ride, wasn't it? I swear, it's like my _Fluff_ _Stick_ is defective or something, and has somehow gotten combined with my _Feels Stick._ I don't know what could possibly be wrong with me...

This chapter was...pretty self-explanatory, really. I can't think of anything that really needs to be added, other than a reassurance to the lovely _somebodysusername,_ who accused me of once more trying to make SokZula a thing. Well, in this fic, it's not; Sokka's just being Sokka, because it annoys Azula, whom he's come to think of as another little sister. If this fic went on to become a Ro4N-esque epic, would SokZula eventually happen? Who knows? I honestly haven't thought about it. As far as we're concerned, though, for now, they're just buds.

Though if you wanna ship it in the background, have at it; if I'm honest, you wouldn't even have to squint.

Anything else...nope! Moving on! In the next chapter, we learn a little bit about integrity. Stay tuned!


	6. Integrity

Hey! I got re-blogged! _Fuck yeah!_ I'm serious; when I saw that, I showed the wife, and we both squealed like like girls and high-fived, and judging from the way the dog looked at us, we're well on our way to making sure our future kids think of us as complete and utter dorks. Quick thanks to Agent544, who pointed out the whole "Tumblr only tracks first five tags" thing, which is incredibly helpful. Anyways, on with the show, which, as usual, contains language not suited for the kiddies (or anyone, really)!

* * *

 **Integrity**

THE WEDDING WAS HELD ONLY TWO MONTHS AFTER THE PROPOSAL, ON THE NIGHT OF THE WINTER SOLSTICE. This was normal for the Southern Water Tribes, which had never believed in long engagements ( _and had often found that long engagements had several, not-often-talked-about, drawbacks_ ). Normally, weddings in this land are group affairs, several couples getting married at once, especially since the War had begun, when rushed ceremonies would be cobbled together before the spring rolled around once more. This wedding, though, was a single one, just one couple, and the whole tribe turned out ( _or so it seemed to those who witnessed it_ ), since the bride _was_ the chief's daughter, and even at the bottom of the world, rank has its privileges.

The day itself, and the night that followed, were full of auspicious omens. It snowed from the morning on, not heavy, just a light, steady stream of big fluffy flakes, as clear a sign of the approval of the gods as anyone had ever seen. The bride and groom never managed to catch even a glimpse of each other before the procession began, and as for the procession itself, no one tripped or stumbled, the chimes hung up to ward off evil spirits never stopped ringing ( _but never got too loud, either_ ), and the shamans leading the way never missed a beat or so much as dropped a syllable from the ritual chants. When the town's Spirit Oasis ( _which was nowhere near as holy as the original one in the North, but was still the most holy place in the town_ ) was reached, it only took one pass by the shaman to freeze it over, and when the bride and groom stepped onto the ice, a single, perfect crack appeared beneath their feet, a clear omen that, while the world would throw its best at the couple, they would never be parted, not even by death.

Of the ceremony itself, little need be said, other than to observe that the groom blushed and stuttered a few times, as a good groom should do, and that the bride looked utterly incandescent, glowing like the sun at noon, the universal mark of a happy bride. Sure, the kiss was a bit on the…well… _passionate side,_ and the bride's grandmother frowned in lighthearted disapproval, but the father of the bride was reminded of his own wedding, and the sister of the groom, who stood as the maid-of-honor, let out a piercing wolf-whistle that set the assembled crowd into a roar of laughter, especially when the brother of the bride, who stood as best man, joined in with the tribal war cry.

And so it was that Tokugawa Zuko of the Fire Nation married Katara, daughter of Hakoda and Kya, of the Yuupik clan of the Southern Water Tribes, though afterwards, when asked about it, both would admit that they only thing they really remembered, other than each other's eyes, was the shaman making the final pronouncement and, of course, the kiss.

* * *

"Thought I might find you up here."

Azula couldn't help but chuckle into her current bottle of ice wine. "And somehow, I'm not in the least bit surprised that you, of all people, managed to find me."

"Meh, what can I say? Sometimes my intellectual powers shock even myself. Care for some company?"

Azula looked down from her perch on the edge of a random rooftop, somewhere towards the edge of the town. Right underneath her, Sokka stood, looking up, a little red-in-the-face, sure, but Azula couldn't judge; the entire town seemed to be shit-faced drunk that night. It was late, and it was cold, it was still snowing, hell, the bride and groom had already staggered off to bed in the house Azula herself would be moving into in about a week, but the tribe seemed in no mood to bring the party to a close. Bonfires still burned, people still jumped and danced through the streets, and it felt like every house was thumping to the sound of song and laughter and toasts. _Say what you will about the Southern Water Tribes, but damn do they know how to celebrate a wedding._

"Whatever," she said, shrugging as she turned her gaze back to the sky, "help yourself."

"Don't mind if I do." It took some effort, during which they discovered that neither one of them was as sober as they had previously imagined, but in the end, Sokka had gotten himself nice and comfortable, feet dangling off the edge of the roof, both of them passing the bottle back-and-forth.

For a long time, neither of them said a word. There didn't seem to be much need, for her or for him. In a lot of ways, for Azula, at least, this was the culmination of a lifetime's worth of dreams. For as long as she could remember, she had dreamed of a day like this, a day when she would watch her brother marry the kind of girl _she_ thought he deserved, a beautiful young woman who was just a little too smart for her own good. Now that it had happened, though, now that she had finally taken what she felt was the first step in atoning for everything she felt she had cost him, she didn't know what to think. _Now what? What do I hope and dream for now?_

She honestly didn't know. Once, she had dreamed of watching her brother take the throne, of being his right hand, of saving their homeland from centuries of darkness. She had even, from time-to-time, allowed herself a fantasy about taking the throne herself, knowing that Zuko would have happily stepped aside for her. But now?

She sighed, unable to keep a grimace from her face. _I don't know what I want now…_

 _I guess I just want to go home…_

 _I guess I just wish my friends were here. Ty Lee would've_ _ **loved**_ _this party…_

" _Jiao_ for your thoughts."

She turned to the young man sitting beside her, frowning, but also a little impressed at how well Sokka's lessons in Guangzhou, the primary language of the southern Earth Kingdom, had come along. "Pardon?"

He chuckled. "That's the right way to say it, right? I know my accent still needs work, but hey, no one's perfect…I mean, sure, I'm pretty close, but even I have a ways to go."

She rolled her eyes, giving him a sharp jab with her elbow before turning back to the sky. "Yeah, you got it right. And your accent's not _too_ bad, truth be told."

He pumped a triumphant fist into the air, elation wafting from every pore. " _Fuck yes._ I always suspected that I'd have to get you drunk to get an even halfway decent compliment."

"Kiss my ass, Sokka."

"Hey," he said, wagging his eyebrows at her, "the night is still young…"

She flipped him the bird as she took another gulp of wine. "Like I keep saying, _dream on, peasant boy._ As for my thoughts…" She heaved a heavy sigh, shaking her head at the hidden stars up above. "I guess…I guess I'm just feeling a little homesick, mostly for my friends. I mean, Mai would've been _devastated_ about tonight, but Ty would be having the time of her life."

"Mai?"

"Heh…one of my best friends since, I dunno, _birth_ almost. You see, when you're royalty, your companions are pretty much chosen for you from the highest nobility of the land. Mai was my age, and both rich and well-born, so, you know, _ta da!_ And I swear, from pretty much five on, she's been hopelessly in love with my brother."

"Ah…how did Zuko feel about it?"

She scoffed, as only a princess really could. " _Please._ My brother's never been anything but oblivious, nevermind the fact that, where Zu-Zu was concerned, Mai was as shy as a novice nun."

"Hey, don't judge. Not everyone can be brimming with as much self-confidence and exquisite poise as we do."

"True…still…I do have to say this for you guys: You beat the _shit_ out of weddings back home."

"Kind of staid affairs, eh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you have no idea. Well…I don't know how it is for commoners, Ty Lee tried to give me a good idea, but I imagine you have to see it to really understand it. But, in the circles that I grew up in, weddings aren't about love: They're pretty much business transactions."

"Not much room for affection, eh?"

"If anything, it's actively discouraged. Your parents choose your future spouse for you, and trust me, they don't take your needs or desires into account; it's all about _birth_ and _standing_ and _connections_ and _which noble family Daddy needs to suck up to this month._ Shit, if you're lucky, you might, _at best,_ have met your future spouse a grand total of a half-dozen times before the wedding day."

"Yeesh. And if you're unlucky?"

"You've never even laid eyes on them, not once in your entire life. Even in the good cases, you won't know a single real thing about them before you exchange your vows."

Sokka made a face, as if he had just bitten into something sour. "That sounds…positively _awful._ No wonder you refused the match your father made for you."

Now it was Azula's turn to make a pained expression. "Yeah…though, in my defense, it was a deliberate slap in the face from my father, promising me to the one of the worst old lechers in the Fire Nation. He _wanted_ me to be defiant, to give him an excuse to banish me. Then my half-brother would be one step closer to the throne, and my father would be a happy camper."

"I still can't get over how much of a complete and utter _douchebag_ your father is. I mean, I always hated the Fire Lord, but now I outright despise him. I gotta ask, though…what was his plan for your brother?"

"Well, he always hated my brother, thought he was weak and useless. Probably just assumed Zuko would just fail his way out of the succession."

"Guy didn't count on how stubborn Zuko is, did he?"

"No he did not. You should've seen the look on Father's face, when the news came that Zuko was going to graduate top of his class at the Academy…which reminds me, thanks for getting his _katana_ back to him. He got that for graduating first in the class, and it means a lot to him."

Sokka flashed his infamous grin. "Eh, don't mention it; it never should've been taken from him in the first place, and definitely not like that. Though, I've always wanted to ask…why was he allowed to keep it?"

Azula shrugged. "One of Father's little _jokes,_ no doubt meant as some sort of mockery. Plus, he probably figured – _correctly_ – that Zuko would be too proud to ditch the thing, and as an armed Fire Nation citizen of military age, there are a lot of places in this world where his life would be forfeit."

"Gods…no offense, but there is a serious lack of integrity in your homeland."

"None taken, though, for the record, it's not so much a _lack_ of integrity, as it is a different definition."

"How so?"

"We just…centuries of tyranny, and then centuries of constant civil wars interspersed with _more_ tyranny before that, have given us this…I dunno…appearances are very important, in the Fire Nation. There's two forms of truth: _Honne,_ which is the way things really are, and then there's _tatemae,_ which is way things appear on the surface. For example, the _tatemae_ of the Fire Nation is that the Fire Lord is descended from Agni Himself, and that the people worship the Fire Lord as a _god on earth_ and thus are wholeheartedly devoted to the War."

"Ah…and the _honne?_ "

"The _honne_ is that my dynasty took the Scarlet Throne by force a good three-hundred years ago, cobbling together a claim after the fact, and that the Fire Nation is just as exhausted and war weary as the rest of the world. No one really believes in the divinity of the Fire Lord, and no one really believes in the War, but we soldier on, because, you know…"

"That's the _tatemae._ "

"Exactly."

Sokka shook his head, clucking his tongue against his teeth. "You know, this conversation got way too real, way too fast."

"Heh…tell me about it."

"I mean, here I was, thinking, _Hey, Azula looks lonely, why not go over and ham-handedly hit on her, while she rolls her eyes and expertly shoots down your half-assed pick-up lines, as one does? That'll be a good way to spend the evening._ "

Azula turned to him, popping an eyebrow. "As opposed to what?"

Sokka made a face. "As opposed to thinking about how my little sister is totally becoming a true woman right now."

Azula rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot, you know that? You think tonight will be the first time that happens between our siblings?"

This time, it was Sokka's turn to shoot her the bird. "Fuck you, Princess. Let a guy have his dreams, alright?"

"Hmm…even if those dreams are retarded?"

And just like that, the _Sokka Smile_ was back, complete with a wink. " _Especially_ if those dreams are retarded."

For some reason Azula couldn't quite explain, that sounded so profound it was almost worthy of being written down. Once more, she was forced to wonder if Sokka really was as stupid as he liked to pretend. _Probably not, but it's more fun to think otherwise._ "You know what, Sokka?"

"What, Azula?"

"You're alright."

He turned to her, giving the best bow he could, considering the circumstances. "I thank you for your praise, Your Highness, and return it in full force, for you, too, are also, as they say, _alright._ "

Azula giggled, a newfound ability she still didn't quite know what to do with. _I don't think I_ _ **ever**_ _giggled before, not once in my entire life, before I came here. Heh…imagine that, right? Ty would be proud._

"You're ridiculous, Sokka."

"I do my best."

"Your bow still needs work, though."

"I fear for the day when you stop telling me so."

"Fair enough. Now, tell me a joke."

"That, I can always do. Should it be dumb, awful, obscene, or all of the above?"

She shot him a look that all but screamed, _What are you, stupid?_ "All of the above, of course."

He shot her a final wink. "That, my lady, I can most certainly accomplish."

And he was, as usual, as good as his word.

* * *

And so it goes! I dunno why, but I like the way that turned out. When I decided to do Zutara Week, I decided to make it something of a challenge to myself. I thought, _How can I go about doing this in a way that's at least slightly different from how it normally goes, thus making things unnecessarily harder for me in the process, as one does?_ The solution, I realized, was to tie the prompts together into one somewhat-cohesive whole, while also not making the story _entirely_ about Zutara. I mean, Zutara is the centerpiece, don't get me wrong, but I figured, _Why not spend as much time watching the effect of Zutara, as on Zutara itself?_ I like to think I've managed that.

A couple things before we roll on: First, once more to Agent 544: _Hey, I know, me, too, but the fun things about this is, it's totally there if you want it._

Second, what's the deal with _honne_ and _tatemae?_ Well, those are actual Japanese concepts, and they're a big part of how Japanese people tend to see truth. I learned about them a while ago, but I was reminded of them when the wife and I sat down and randomly watched the _Freakonomics_ documentary on Netflix one night. They discuss those concepts, and being me, I thought, _Hey, I finally have my prompt for Integrity. Fuck yeah._ That, and I like finding ways to make my propensity for having the different nations speak different languages serve some other purpose beyond complicating my life.

Third, how fun is it to imagine Sokka making a _Sokka Face_ and calling Ozai a douchebag? One of my favorite moments thus far, hands down.

That appears to be all I have for today! Tomorrow, we begin the final act. I had to re-write _Maelstrom_ a good four times, and ended up splitting it up into three parts. It ended up being super epic, and super awesome, and the third part is, hands-down, one of my favorite pieces of fiction among everything that's I've written. I hope you're stoked, because I know I am.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we flash forward a year, a boy gets lost in a storm, and Zuko and Katara stumble upon an impossible block of ice. Stay tuned!


	7. Maelstrom, Part One

So, it appears that I _am_ getting reblogged ( _occasionally_ ), which means that I'm getting new readers. If you're one of those new readers: _Hi!_ *waves like the complete and utter dork that I am* Otherwise, I suppose that I should get on with the show, no? And, because this _is_ for Zutara Week: _Kiddies beware, for bad language lingers here. Beware!_

* * *

 **Maelstrom, Part One**

 _NEVER, IN ALL OF HIS FIFTEEN YEARS, HAD THE BOY SEEN A STORM LIKE THIS. The rain came at him in sheets, cold as ice and sharp as knives, the impact and the chill slicing through the heavy cloak and thick blankets that he was huddled in like they weren't even there. The wind howled like the end of the world, driving the rain into his face, lashing at his eyes. He could no longer tell up from down, right from left, north from south. Everything was a dark, endless blur, lightning slicing the heavens before blackness enveloped the world again._

 _He was utterly terrified, utterly alone. He didn't know what to do with this, didn't know how to respond. He had never been scared before, not once in his entire life. He dreamed of the temple, of the warmth of the fires and the sound of his own laughter echoing up and down the halls like bells chiming in a light summer breeze. He wished desperately for help, for someone to come and wrap him in their arms, for his mother and his father and the novice master, the only people who knew where he was, where he was going. He had never intended to come this far, to be gone this long. He had only wanted time to think, time to master his emotions._

 _ **I just wanted to clear my head,**_ _he pleaded with the cold, silent, unseen faces of the gods the monks had told him were mere metaphors, for all that his mother had said otherwise._ _ **Strange men were crowding around me, saying things I didn't understand, pointing at me and telling me all that I needed to do. I was disturbed and confused and I just wanted to go visit some friends for a week and clear my head.**_

 _ **I just wanted to think…**_

 _ **I just wanted…**_

 _The reins jerked, and suddenly the air bison was falling, diving down, or he assumed it was down, he didn't know anymore. His heart stopped, crawling up his throat and choking him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He pulled at the reins, screamed words he didn't understand, would never remember. He felt like he was crying, but he couldn't be sure; he was soaked to the bone and shivering so bad that his face hurt from the clacking of his teeth. The world was spinning, spinning even worse than before. He thought a thousand-million things as the bison dove, heedless of his commands. He remembered the little village, little even by Southern Water Tribe standards, the friends he had played with, the girl he had been sweet on. He thought of his mother and his father, of Gyatso the novice master, of the strange day they laid out a thousand toys and he picked out four and his mother had burst into tears._

 _He thought of how they had finally told him why, the strange old men (or so they seemed to his teenage eyes) who muttered to each other in different tongues and didn't seem aware that he understood every word._

 _He thought of home, and how he was supposed to be back by now._

 _The panic rose, rose and grew until there was a keening in his ears, a high-pitched squeal unlike anything he had ever heard, something strange and horrible and he wanted to clap his hands on his ears and make it stop but he couldn't let go of the reins, was afraid that he would fly off the bench and go hurtling off into the void. He didn't know where he was and he wanted it all to stop and he wanted to go home, he never meant to run away, he was sorry, he was supposed to be back, he had meant to be back, he was sorry, so sorry,_ _ **so sorry…**_

 _The world shattered, and all he knew was the light._

* * *

To call the place known as Kuujjuarapik a _village_ would be a severe stretching of the term. Nestled in the foothills of the Polar Mountains, several days' travel from the coast, it is, in fact, more a _collection of huts_ than something one could call a proper _village._ Villages and towns are for the coastal areas, where foreigners would be more likely to find something they would be comfortable calling _civilization._ Down in the depths of the land the thirty-or-so Southern Water Tribes call _home,_ though, is a different land, where people are spread thin upon the ground, where isolated people corral massive herds of buffalo-yaks and the like across the endless plains, ducking and weaving out of the foothills of the aforementioned Polar Mountains, those forever snow-capped shards that punch up and threaten to tear a hole in the sky. Here, in a place like Kuujjuarapik, people live the same as they have for eons, paying little heed to the outside world. Few speak anything other than their tribal dialect, and fewer still can read or write. Occasionally, a hawk will fly down from the north, and the young men will shoulder spears and head off, called to war by the Chief, sometimes against one of the other tribes, sometimes against that selfsame _outside world_ of which these people know little, and want to know less.

The summers are short and cool here, and the winters are long and hard. It was in the midst of one of these winters, a full year after their marriage, that a strange couple arrived, a couple who, for all of their oddness in appearance, were not only known, but expected.

They were met by what amounted to the village's elders, a half-dozen older people lead by a middle-aged man named Aariak, who hobbled a bit from the old wounds that had kept him from going with his Chief to war for several raiding seasons now. He watched the couple with a keen eye, for though he had heard much ( _and who wouldn't have, seeing as not only does a chief's daughter not take a husband every day, but it's even rarer for a chief's daughter to marry a banished prince from across the seas_ ), he had never seen them for himself. They spoke to each other in a language he didn't understand, the young woman giggling at some private joke the young man had made, the young man beaming at the accomplishment. They moved as one entity, very much a pair of happy newlyweds, and Aariak looked to his wife, who nodded and let him know that it was alright for him to approve of the sight.

As the couple turned to face the delegation, all leaned forward while trying not to look like they were doing so, for the young man was throwing back the hood of his parka and sliding off his snow goggles. Like everyone, Aariak had heard of the hideous scar that marred the young man's face, and for his part, Aariak was a bit disappointed to see that, while the scar itself wasn't exactly pleasant to look at, the tales had greatly exaggerated its horror.

 _If anything,_ Aariak mused, _it gives him a kind of dashing, piratical quality. I can see why the chief's daughter fell for him._

By this time, the couple had made it to the delegation, the young woman extending her hand and flashing a happy smile.

"Elder Aariak, I presume?" she asked, speaking the tribal dialect.

Aariak smiled back, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. "That would be correct, Miss Katara, and might I take a moment to say how honored we are that you have finally made it to our humble village."

The chief's daughter laughed, dipping her head in a sign of respect. "Now Elder, be truthful: Since when have our people ever been humble?"

This time, it was everyone's turn to laugh, including the young man, though Aariak couldn't help but notice that, even after three years of living among their people, the young man didn't seem all that comfortable with the act. Aariak started to turn to him, but the chief's daughter was way ahead.

"And before we get any further," she said, moving to the young man's side and sliding an arm through the crook of his, "this is my husband, Zuko, of whom I'm sure you've all heard at least a little about."

"Only good things," Aariak said, taking the hand the young man offered and giving it a proper, manly shake. "My eldest boy," who was still away in the wars, for the Yuupik tribe's turn to guard Chameleon Bay had come up, which meant that the warriors had not returned for the winter, as was usual, "has spoken very highly of you, young man."

The young man blushed bright red, and stuttered a few times before replying. "Oh, well, you're far too kind, my lor-er, I mean, Elder." The young man started to perform what could only have been a bow, but arrested himself at the last moment, looking even more embarrassed than before. He gave himself a shake, during which the chief's daughter squeezed his arm in encouragement. "I would, however, like to take a moment to say that you have a beautiful home out here; it really is quite lovely."

Aariak wasn't so much of a country rube not to recognize courtly pleasantries when he heard them, though it seemed to make the boy feel better to fall back on them, so he just smiled and laughed, choosing to ignore the young man's almost painfully thick accent. "My thanks, Your Highness," he said, dipping his head.

The young man's remaining good eye went wide as a saucer, and he coughed awkwardly into his hand. "Oh, that's really not necessary, sir. _Zuko_ will do just fine."

At his arm, the chief's daughter rolled her eyes. "Get over it, babe; to us, you and Azula will always be royalty." She punctuated this by popping up and pecking the young man on the cheek, which set off a round of coos and awws from the women who were watching. Turning back to Aariak, the chief's daughter dipped her head once more. "Now, as much as I would love to stand here and make my husband blush, I do believe we have some business to attend to…"

Aariak nodded. "Quite right, I'm afraid. We would, of course, be honored to invite you in for a little feast, but with the weather we've been having lately, it probably wouldn't do to put this off for too long." He half-turned away, beckoning at some of the teenage boys too young to go off to fight. "If you two will come with me…"

The chief's daughter smiled. "Lead the way!"

And off they went.

* * *

"Elder Aariak?" Katara asked, taking in the sight before her. "Just how long has this been here?"

Beside her, Aariak heaved a rather impressive shrug. "Honestly, Miss," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, face screwed up in contemplation, "I haven't the fainted idea. It's not unusual for the snow that falls in these little dips to never melt, and I doubt that any of us has ever bothered to poke around."

Katara nodded, pursing her lips in thought as she tried to wrap her mind around what she was looking at. They were standing at the lip of a kind of _divot,_ for lack of a better word, low in the shoulder of the mountain that towered above them. The rent in the surface of the earth was in such a position that the sun, even at the height of what passed for summer down here, would never shine upon it in full force, and here in the depths of winter, it was filled almost to the brim with snow.

Or, at least, it would've been, had events not taken a different turn.

"So, if you don't mind," she began, watching as one of the village boys helped Zuko clamber up onto the thing they had come to look at, "tell me again what happened?"

Aariak nodded. "Right. So, two weeks ago was the Glacier Springs Festival. We're kind of the meeting place for all the local bands of herders, so during the festival, our population about triples in size. A couple of boys got into an argument – you know how these things go, when people who normally see each other only once a year get together – and came out here to settle it."

"And they were both waterbenders, right?"

"Exactly. They started fighting – nothing serious, mind you, neither of them were skilled enough to do real damage," a statement Katara interpreted as, _they were too drunk to do much more than blindly flail at each other,_ but she let the Elder go on without interruption, "but then, one of them tumbled into this little ravine. He got stuck, and when he and the other boy, their argument forgotten, tried to get him free, well…"

"They caused a bit of a mini-avalanche," Katara finished, gesturing at the object before them, "and out comes _this._ "

Aariak sighed. "That's the long and short of it. Needless to say, the second I got a good look at it, I sent a messenger hawk to your brother."

Katara allowed herself a very deep, slow nod. "I can see why."

The object of their attention was a massive hunk of ice, only unlike any hunk of ice Katara had ever seen ( _and after twenty-one years in her homeland, she'd seen quite a few_ ). For one thing, judging from what had so far been unearthed, it was a nearly perfect sphere, which should've been impossible for nature or anyone but an exceptionally skilled waterbender to form. The ice itself was cause for concern as well: It was a strange, hybrid mix of ice-cold blue and a bizarre glimmer of white, so that the thing almost seemed to _glow,_ which, again, shouldn't have been possible, but here it was, right in front of her eyes. Even stranger was the fact that several of the boys had sworn that there was something _inside_ the sphere, a claim that her husband was checking out at that very moment while she got more information from Elder Aariak.

As she watched Zuko slowly make his way through the snow, deep in an animated conversation with one of the teenage boys who had found the thing, Katara allowed her mind to wander. She really couldn't think of a single explanation for what this thing was. It _might,_ she supposed, have been formed by some mischievous waterbender, but she couldn't think of anyone that skilled who might be in the area. It could've have been older than her time, but then again, even down here, in this sheltered place, the ice should've melted somewhat, or at least enough to mar its perfect curve. And then there was the glowing to take into consideration, the slightly rhythmic throb of the gleaming, unworldly white, almost like… _almost like…_

 _Almost like the beat of a heart…_

"Hey, Katara! Come take a look at this!"

Her husband's voice yanked her out of her thoughts. She turned to Elder Aariak, dipping her head in respect. "If you don't mind…"

Aariak spread his hands. "Be my guest, Miss. Though, please, do be careful."

"No promises, sir." With that, she went through a quick gathering form, before quickly and easily bending herself through a combination of snow and ice to deposit herself right next to her husband. Zuko took her hand as she set foot on the sphere, a bit of a gleam in his eye.

"I never get tired of seeing you do stuff like that," he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear in Nihongo, a language she had become quite proficient at.

She did nothing to control the shiver his breath on her ear sent up and down her spine. "Careful now, silly boy," she said in the same language, "or I'm like to jump you right here and now."

"Settle for a kiss?" he asked, looking hopeful.

"Oh, definitely," she said, throwing a distinct purr into her voice. He leaned down to give her a peck on the head, but she was more than up to his tricks, and quickly grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him into a _real,_ and decidedly _unchaste,_ kiss. Her head swooned, and she made sure to nip his bottom lip as they parted.

She was quite pleased to see that he was redder than the fire he bent during his morning workouts, stuttering and stumbling a few times before he choked out, " _Why must you do that in front of people…"_

She popped up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Because I think it's adorable that, after a year of marriage, you're still squeamish about PDA?"

He rolled his eye. "I swear, between you and my sister, it's a wonder I have _any_ self-confidence left."

"Just wait until we have children," she said with a wink and an air of promise, before crouching down on the ice and brushing some stray snow away. "So, what did you want to show me?"

Chuckling, he crouched down next to her, pulling off one of his gloves to lay his bare palm against the ice. "Take off your glove and touch the surface."

She started pulling off a glove, eyebrow popped in interest. "I wouldn't leave my palm there too long if I were you."

He cracked a smile, that soft, simple one that she loved so much, the smile that said, _I've never had much cause to smile in my life, so I'm not very good at it, but for you, it's the only thing I want to do._ "Trust me, you have to feel it with bare skin to really believe it."

"Oooh, mysterious, I like…it…" It was right then that her brain fully registered what her palm was feeling. "It…it…" She looked up at Zuko, eyes wide. "That's _impossible._ "

He laughed. "Hey, don't look at me; I completely agree. But that doesn't change the fact that this ice is _warm._ "

She looked down at where her bare hand lay on the ice. The sensations she was feeling made so little sense that, for a moment, she felt almost _dizzy._ After all, who had ever heard of _warm ice,_ nevermind the fact that if ice _could_ be warm, snow shouldn't be able to bury it deep enough to escape detection for however long the sphere had been there. She turned her hand over, felt the ice with her knuckles, wondering if it was just some sort of strange trick, but sure enough, it was still _warm. Though…_

"It's not a normal kind of warm, is it?" she asked, eyes on her hand as she patted around, trying various pieces of ice, always getting the same results.

"No," Zuko admitted, "it's not, is it? It reminds me of how Zula describes bending blue flames, you know? How it's _hot,_ only _not hot,_ though this is a bit different."

Katara nodded. "I get where you're going. I mean, it's like… _gods._ This is the coldest warm that I've ever felt in my _life,_ nevermind the fact that that statement should make my head explode just trying to think it."

"Tell me about it, though I have to admit, I'm _immensely_ relieved that I'm not, in fact, going crazy."

She rolled back, settling down on her haunches, as she put her glove back on and shot him a wink. "Ah, but am I the best measuring stick for that determination? After all, I did marry you…"

He chuckled as he mirrored her actions, right down to the way he put his glove on. "You might be on to something there. After all, as Zula's always saying, only a crazy person would ever not only marry me, but enjoy it."

"Well, I'm not complaining. Though, as regards this impossible hunk of ice…"

"If it really _is_ ice."

She frowned. "You know, that statement should make me burst into hysterical laughter, but…you just might be on to something…"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his hand traveling up and through the shaggy mop of jet-black hair on his head. "Yeah…and this glow is really unsettling. Notice how it pulses? Almost like a heartbeat, you know?"

She giggled, leaned over for another quick peck. "I swear, I will _never_ get tired of how you can read my mind like that."

He shrugged. "Hey, have to be good at _something,_ you know? Might as well rock at being a husband. Still, as fun as flirting with you on top of a strange ball of ice that might as well be from the depths of the Spirit World for all the sense it makes is, we do have to do something about it…"

"Yeah," she said, shoulders slumping in defeat, "I suppose you're right. You believe what those boys are saying, that there's something in there?"

"If there is, there's no way that it's still alive, or at least, it _shouldn't_ be alive. Nothing about this makes sense…"

She shot him a mischievous grin. "Well, there's only one way to find out, now, isn't there?"

The look he shot her was a bit on the skeptical side. "What, you mean crack open the giant sphere of ice that we know nothing about and can't make any sense of?"

"Naturally."

"Heh…you've officially spent too much time around my sister."

"That, or too much time around you. After all, Azula may be prone to acting crazy, but she always thinks before she leaps."

"Are you implying that I don't?"

"Are you going to contest that?"

"…bite me. I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, help me get everyone a safe distance away."

"And, by, _safe distance away,_ you of course mean, _significantly further than where we will be standing,_ right?"

"See? This is why I love you."

* * *

If, three years ago, one had asked Sokka how he would describe having two former members of the Fire Nation Royal Family living in his tribe, one could have bet money that _educational_ would not have been among the words he would've used. _Headache_ would definitely have been one, along with _stressful, weird,_ and, last but not least, the collection of words that make up the statement, _why the hell is my sister looking at that boy like that?_

And while he had definitely used all of those at various points in time, _education_ would, indeed, be the biggest one. For example, through the two former royals who were now his in-laws, he had become a downright expert in Fire Nation geography and history, fighting against skilled firebenders, and the wonders of foreign obscenities. Thanks to Zuko, he now knew more about sword-fighting than he had ever imagined existed, and thanks to Azula, he had a pretty solid mind for politics. The most useful, albeit frustrating, skill he had learned, though, had been in languages. Over the past three years ( _excepting one year he spent raiding Fire Nation shipping with his father_ ), he had become proficient in reading and writing both Nihongo and Guangzhou, the latter being one of the three primary languages of the Earth Kingdom, which had led directly to the extraordinarily frustrating afternoon he was in the middle of right now.

For the record, he did not blame himself. No, it was all Azula's fault. _Obviously._

"You know, Zula," he said, pinching his nose to stave off the massive migraine that was building right behind his eyes, "threatening bodily harm is not generally considered an effective means of education."

Azula, for her part, seemed rather unimpressed by his reasoning. She huffed that special, infuriating huff of hers, crossing her arms and glaring at him from her position by the chalkboard Sokka had cobbled together a few years before. "Then you obviously don't know much about education…or anything, for that matter."

Sokka groaned, slumping back and down in his chair. They had been at this for upwards of two hours, just like the day before and the day before that and the day before _that,_ on and on for several months, and yet he seemed no closer to mastering Putonghua. "I know I'm going to regret this," he said, adding eye-rubbing to his current task of nose-pinching, "but whatever, I believe in going big or going home: What the holy ever-living fuck does that even _mean?"_

Azula tilted her head to one side and looked at him like he was the dumbest fuck that ever dumb-fucked in the entirety of the history of dumb-fucking. _And that's saying something,_ he mused, _considering some of her ancestors._ "What, besides the fact that you're a dumb ignorant savage who wouldn't know a _haiku_ from your asshole?"

"Says the sister of the least poetic person to ever walk the planet."

Rather than wilting under his barb, she giggled. _Though, in her defense, she's_ _ **never**_ _wilted under my barbs; you'd think I'd learn to stop hoping for it._ " _Point,_ but my assertion still stands. Do you have _any_ idea how education works in the Fire Nation?"

He shrugged, removing his hand from his face and clasping it with the other behind his head, beginning the process of leaning his chair back until he inevitably tumbled onto his ass ( _as one does_ ). "Honestly, I always assumed they just hurled fireballs at you until only the evil ones remained."

That got him another giggle. "Heh…you know, I'm actually surprised that my grandfather never thought of that. Still, though…basically, a teacher – or, in my case, a tutor, one of many – smacks you with a bamboo cane every time you screw up."

Sokka tried to wrap his mind around that image, but couldn't stop imagining the nineteen-year-old in front of him grabbing one of those bamboo canes and shoving it up a tutor's ass. After allowing himself a chuckle over the picture, he snarked, "And the purpose of _that_ would be… _what,_ exactly?"

That earned him another _Azula Smirk,_ which, if Sokka had had a gold _yen_ for every one he had earned in three years, he could buy the Fire Nation and end the War in a fortnight. "Simple: Eventually, you stop making mistakes, and stop getting beaten. At least, that's the theory."

" _Naturally._ The _tatemae,_ if one will."

Azula's face lit up like the sun. "Ooh, it _does_ learn! Good boy, Sokka!"

He flipped her the bird before continuing. "I take it that the _honne_ is that the teachers or tutors or _whatever-the-fuck_ just start making shit up to beat you for."

Azula sighed, looking as glum as she was generally able. "Pretty much, and trust me, at least when it came to me and my brother, they could be _amazingly_ inventive."

He frowned. "And you just took it?"

That got him another shrug. "Meh, it's considered good for building your character. Plus, it happens to everyone, not just, you know, _royalty,_ so I wasn't even aware it might be considered bullshit until I got here. Which reminds me…" Her face shifted from _glumly introspective_ to _disturbingly mischievous_ as she tapped her own version of a bamboo cane (in this case, a long stick that Sokka, in one of his weaker moments, had carved for her) against the chalkboard, which was covered in characters.

He sighed, slumping deeper into his chair in defeat. "Yeah, yeah…can't blame a guy for trying…"

She laughed. "I do have to give you top marks for effort, though. But, as I was saying, back to the lesson. Now, once more, _with feeling,_ count from one-to-ten in Putonghua."

Sokka sighed, doing his best not to pout as Azula began tapping the appropriate characters in time with his recitation. _"Yīgè, Liǎng, Sān, Sì, Wǔ, Liù, Qī-"_

So intent was he on getting the pronunciation right ( _all while mentally lambasting his sister, who constantly lorded her much-more-rapid language acquisition skills, not even bothering to take into account how she shared a bed with_ _ **her**_ _tutor_ ), as well as being excited that he seemed to be on the verge of getting to ten without error for the first time all week, that he didn't notice that the door to his sister and brother-in-law's house ( _where Azula lived and where their lessons typically occurred_ ) had burst open with an earth-shattering _bang_ until he was on his feet with his heart in his mouth, all while shouting ( _in surprisingly good Putonghua_ ), _"Dude, what the fuck?!"_

The aforementioned _dude_ happened to be one of the younger boys of the tribe, whose name escaped Sokka during that moment of surprise. The boy gaped, confused, not in the least bit understanding what had just been said to him. "Um…huh?"

Sokka groaned, slapping a palm to his forehead. "Don't worry about it," he said, switching back to his tribal dialect. "What's up?"

Before the boy could answer, Azula had stepped into view, leveling a look that could kill at the kid. "And it better be good," she said, also in tribal dialect ( _and pitch perfect, too,_ Sokka noted with annoyance, _because of **course** she can't be like Zuko, who has the good grace to speak it like his mouth is full of mush_), "to justify interrupting my lesson."

The boy, to his credit, visibly gulped, the blood draining from his face; the penalty for interrupting the former princess at, well, _anything,_ was well known around town. "Um…apologies, Miss, but…uh…"

Azula snapped her fingers a few times through the air. "Come on, kid, spit it out."

The boy nodded, turning to Sokka. "It's just…um…well…uh…"

Sokka bit down on a groan. _Shit, he's starting to get on_ _ **my**_ _nerves._ "It's alright, bud, no one's going to set you on fire."

 _"Speak for yourself,"_ Azula muttered in Nihongo.

"Hush, _Princess,_ " Sokka shot back in the same language, before turning back to the boy. "Seriously, though," he said, switching languages once again, "just get to the point."

"Uh…right…um…I honestly don't know. I just…I really think you need to see this…"

"Well," Sokka observed, "that certainly sounds ominous." He turned to Azula. "Shall we, my lady?"

"The proper form of address is _Your Highness,_ " Azula corrected him, before setting her stick on the living room table that doubled as their school desk and heading for the door. "But, in answer to your question, yes, I believe we shall."

Sokka turned back to the boy. "Lead the way, little guy."

The boy did, and when Sokka saw what was causing all the ruckus, he decided that the kid was right. It really _did_ have to be seen, and as the current stand-in Chief (his father being away for the winter in the Earth Kingdom), he was the one who needed to see it.

Not that he had any idea what he was looking at.

"Hey, Zula?"

"No, Sokka, I haven't the faintest idea what the fuck I'm looking at."

He nodded. "Right…just making sure. Otherwise, I would have to conclude that I had lost my mind."

"Hmm…how would you know?"

"Point."

They lapsed into silence as they watched the sliver of blinding blue-white light slice up into the heavens, listening with half-an-ear to the awestruck mutterings of the people filtering into the streets around them. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, though, it flickered, once, twice, and then was gone.

It was another minute or so before Sokka put two-and-two together and realized that it had come from the direction of Kuujjuarapik. Azula realized it at exactly the same moment as he did, which was why, not ten minutes after _that,_ they had bundled into traveling clothes, tossed some supplies into a couple of sacks, and hurled themselves atop two buffalo-yaks, racing off to the south.

* * *

The first thing the boy saw was the girl.

Before that, there was the light, but he could not see it. He wasn't even sure if it was light, or if he could actually _see,_ since he didn't feel like he had eyes. He didn't feel like he had _anything._ Nothing made sense. Time was meaningless, senses were meaningless, _everything was meaningless._ There was a sound, a deep, rhythmic _thump,_ on and on, endless, though to have an end one must have a beginning, and there was nothing to tell him that this had ever _not_ been his life, or even if he was _alive._ It sounded like a heartbeat, but where that heartbeat would come from, or what it could possibly mean, he did not know.

All he knew was that he was very scared, very alone, and very, very cold. The body he did not have shivered, the teeth he did not have clacked. He was sure he was in hell, though when he was sure of that, or what he meant by _being sure,_ he could not say, not least because his mouth was not a mouth, his tongue was not a tongue, his lungs were not lungs. The monks had told him, over and over again, that there was no _hell,_ that that was just a mistaken belief, something the elders of the other nations used to scare their children into behaving, but now he knew they were wrong.

He had run away, without even meaning to, and then had come the storm and the light and now the cold, the deep, profound, endless cold, and all he wanted was for it to stop, for him to have eyes again, eyes that he could screw shut and wish for his mother to wrap her arms around him and carry home.

And then he opened his eyes, and there was the girl.

She was standing over him, her long, curly, dark brown hair askew, her clothes covered in snow, as if she had just gone tumbling down a long, steep hill. He blinked, and she swam more into focus. She was looking at him with eyes as deep and blue as the ocean itself, eyes that drank in the weak sunlight of what could only be winter. Her skin was dark and her clothes were blue and white, just like her eyes, and around her neck hung a choker, a thick ribbon of blue and red from which hung two stones, two pendants, one blue like her eyes, one purple like the sea at dusk. She reached up a hand, and from that hand – it seemed to be her left – on her index finger, there was a thin golden band that sparkled as it caught the light. The hand came to rest on his forehead, and he swooned and smiled, warmth filling his very being.

It had been a long time since he had felt warm, a long time or a short time, he didn't know, couldn't tell. All he knew was that she was breathtakingly beautiful, more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen. She was speaking, he couldn't understand the words, concern etched on her face, turning and talking to someone, but he didn't care. She was just beautiful, and he just had to tell her so.

 _"You're very pretty…"_

She frowned, said something again, and into his vision came a young man, with a hideous scar covering the left side of his face, fanning out from an eye dead and white, a stark contrast to the other, which was gold like the ring on the girl's finger, an eye that flickered down at the boy through a shaggy mop of jet-black hair. The man frowned, and said something to the boy, but the boy didn't understand. The boy just felt himself frown right back, and then words were forming and he spoke again.

 _"But you're not…"_

And then the ocean rushed through his ears and the world was spinning and spinning and he fell once more into darkness.

* * *

 _Guess who!_ Yup, that be Aang, which means shit is about to get straight up _fire in a circus_ in here.

( _Yay for puns!_ )

But I digress, as one does. This prompt ended up being the hardest one to deal with, not least because I had to re-write it, _from scratch,_ a good _three fucking times._ Finally, though, I got a handle on it. Unfortunately, _getting a handle on it_ meant having to divvy it up into three parts, but, hey, happens to the best of us, you know?

As for the story...well, there are more parts to it ( _two more, as a matter of fact_ ), so we'll be dealing with that tomorrow and Monday, when I'll post the final bit, which happens to be, hands down, one of my favorite pieces of writing that I've ever done. It just turned out _so awesome, you guys._ As for Sokka counting to ten in Putonghua, _Putonghua_ is one of the names for Mandarin Chinese in, well, _Mandarin._ The words I used come directly from Google Translate, which I normally don't trust all that much, but hey, surely it can give me that, right? If it's wrong, feel free to tell me, and I'll...probably pop back in and fix it, because these things bother me.

What else, what else...oh, right! So, I have, like, a _massive_ backlog of messages in my inbox to reply to, because life by cray sometimes, guv. However, my wife is about to take off to Mexico for the next week, which means I will be bored in a way that should be illegal be...oh...probably by about dinnertime today, which means I will be...probably hanging around here a lot. _I'm going to be freaking bored as fuck, guys._ Pray for me, because for a week, I have to deal with myself, and I got married at least partially so I wouldn't have to do that.

On the other hand, my wife will come back not being able to speak English for a few days, and that's just all _kinds_ of sexy.

That's...really about it. Moving on! In the next chapter, our Fearsome Foursome try to figure out what happens, and Aang comes clean. Stay tuned!


	8. Maelstrom, Part Two

Happy Sunday, everyone! How're we all doing? Good? EXCELLENT! In case you can't tell, I am, like, almost pathetically bored. As previously mentioned, the wife is out of town for a week, and I'm pretty sure that, by this time tomorrow, I will have completely and utterly lost my mind. In the meantime, though... _ZUTARA WEEK!_ As usual, hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife, because everybody be droppin' f-bombs up in here.

* * *

 **Maelstrom, Part Two**

"SO… _THAT_ HAPPENED."

All Zuko could do was nod at his wife's muttered observation. The events of the past few minutes still seemed unreal to him, unreal and not quite in the realm of the possible. He screwed his eye shut, ran it all through his head, tried to make sense of it. There had been that long hour, he and Katara working together, trying to reveal more of the sphere, trying to find some way to safely crack it open. All of their attempts failed. The ice that Zuko was increasingly sure wasn't really ice resisted all of Katara's efforts to bend it apart, and shrugged off his fire as if he was throwing pebbles. Finally, in a fit of frustration, he had stomped over to one of the villagers and borrowed an axe, an axe he then marched up to the sphere with and used to savagely attack the _can't-possibly-be-ice._ He hadn't intended it to do anything, just wanted to relieve some of his irritation, and he had been about to hand the axe to Katara, who was just as annoyed and was asking if she could have a go, when he hit the ice one more time.

A crack had appeared, not much, barely more than a hair's-breadth in width, not more than a few inches in length. Laughing, he had turned to Katara and quipped, _I guess it was afraid of you._ Katara had smiled, opening her mouth to quip something back, and at that moment, the world had turned upside down.

The light had been blinding, warm and cold at the same time, flashing out from the cracking sphere with a sound like the end of the world. Without thinking, Zuko had hurled himself at Katara, just as she hurled herself at him, and together they had gone tumbling away from whatever was happening, clapping hands over each other's eyes and holding each other tight, their world filled with swirling snow and an ear-piercing whine and the blinding blue-white light.

And just as quickly as it had started, it was over.

Katara had been up first, pulling Zuko with her. They took a moment to brush each other off, nervous giggles escaping their mouths. They looked around, watched as the villagers began to help each other up, waving at each other. Katara had been about to head over, to make sure everyone was alright, when one of the villager's faces had gone white and their eyes had gone wide and they were pointing and working their mouth, though no sounds escaped, just wonder and awe and fear.

As one entity, Zuko and Katara had turned, their hands instinctively finding each other and holding on tight enough to make knuckles turn white. They looked into what had once been a sphere of something they would never be able to adequately explain, and both were torn between fear and irritated confusion.

Zuko, he would always feel, summed it up best in that moment: _"The fuck…?"_

 _"Stole the words right out of my mouth…"_

There was an animal laying there in the snow and shattered ice, its chest heaving up and down, still alive, but seemingly dead to the world. Zuko frowned, scrambling through his mental library, trying to place it, finding an answer very quickly, but not at all believing what his brain was telling him.

And that's not even getting into the boy who was staggering towards them.

Katara was off like a shot, dragging Zuko along by his hand. The closer they got, the less the boy made sense to Zuko. He couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen, thin as a rail, all knees and elbows. He was dressed in Air Nomad colors, his head covered with a thick carpet of short-cropped dark brown hair. He was obviously Air Nomad, and possibly an airbender at that, but even that didn't begin to answer a single one of Zuko's questions, which always came back to his first statement: _The fuck…?_

And now they were crouching over the boy, who had just passed out, Katara beginning an examination, checking for pulse and breathing and broken bones. While she worked, she jerked her head up at the animal. "Hey, babe? The hell is that?"

He shrugged, running his hand through his hair. "Well…I'm pretty sure it's an air bison, but that doesn't make any sense…I mean, what would one be doing all the way out here, trapped in a ball of ice?"

"Search me. So, that means this kid is an Air Nomad?"

Zuko nodded. "It would seem so. He _was_ speaking Gorkhali."

"Hmm…you speak Gorkhali?"

"Not as well as my sister, but enough to understand what he was saying."

"Which was…?"

Zuko turned to his wife and smiled.

"Well, let me put it this way: Kid has good taste."

Which, they would both decide later, as they left the still-slumbering air bison with the villagers, bundled the kid onto the back of a buffalo-yak, and set off at breakneck speed for their home town, was somehow the one statement anyone made that afternoon that made the least bit of sense.

* * *

In good weather, it takes about four days to ride from Katvik, the primary town of the Yuupik Tribe ( _its capital, if one insists on attaching a word to such things_ ) to Kuujjuarapik, three days if one happens to be in a hurry. Now, a good blizzard – or even a moderate one, considering that there isn't much cover out there on the plains – can lay to waste even the most carefully-devised travel plans, but for the brothers and sisters riding pell-mell across the plains that fateful winter, the weather was, for once, being kind. The skies were clear, not even the occasional wisp to mar the endless, eternal blue, and though the wind was strong and the nights were cold enough to chill one's very soul, the snow was not too terribly thick, and the buffalo-yaks they rode managed the terrain with aplomb.

The two pairs met around noon on the second day after the light from another world had shattered the peace of a sedate afternoon. All four were exhausted, chilled to the bone, and all had been obliged that morning to change their blown mounts. They met at the exact halfway point between Kuujjuarapik and Katvik, and for all involved, the other pair was a sight for sore eyes.

In fact, so happy were Zuko and Katara to see the others, and so relieved were Sokka and Azula to see that their siblings were alive and unharmed, that it was a good five minutes before anyone either remembered or noticed ( _depending on which pair one is talking about_ ) the slumped, heavily bundled form that was sharing Katara's saddle.

It was, naturally, Azula who was the quickest on the uptake. Jerking a thumb towards the aforementioned, vaguely human-shaped lump, she drawled, "Hey, not to put a damper or anything on the joyous reunion, but… _the fuck is that?"_

"And while we're on the subject," Sokka added, gesturing with his head towards the south, "what in the holy hell was _that?"_

"You mean the weird-ass light from another world?" Zuko asked, pointing in the direction his brother-in-law was indicating. "I haven't the foggiest idea. Like, seriously, we were right there, not ten feet from the freaking thing, and we have no idea what happened."

"As for _this,_ " Katara said, fiddling with the bundle in her lap ( _her and her husband had spent the ride taking turns holding the boy in their saddle_ ), "we're just as in the dark." She carefully moved one of the blankets aside, revealing the boy they had found in the ice, still alive, but fast asleep.

Azula popped in an eyebrow. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but…is that a…an _Air Nomad?"_

Zuko nodded. "I'm afraid so. He was trapped in this…fuck, how should I describe it…in a _big sphere of impossible ice_ , if that makes any sense."

"Along with an air bison, if you can believe it," Katara chimed in. "And no, Sokka, before you ask, we don't have any idea what that means, either."

Sokka nodded, quickly accepting the situation as only he really could. "Right on. Why're you bringing the impossible boy from the impossible ball of impossible ice to town, then? If I might be so bold…"

"Because I need _all_ of my medical supplies, not to mention a consultation with Gran-Gran," Katara responded, swiftly bundling the boy from the ice back up. "Not to mention a stiff drink."

"I second that motion," Azula said, raising a hand.

"And I third it," Sokka added, raising his own hand.

Zuko nodded, looking somewhat grim. "Alright then, it's settled. We get back to town as soon as possible, get the kid settled, get stinking drunk, and try to figure out what the hell is happening."

Katara smiled, leaning from her saddle to give her husband a peck on the cheek. "I love how we basically share the same brain."

" _Speak for yourself,"_ Sokka mumbled under his breath, to which Azula responded, _"Tell me about it._ " They loved their siblings, and loved that those siblings were married and happy, but that didn't mean that the constant feeling of being on the outside of a never-ending inside joke didn't get old from time-to-time. Throwing Sokka a wink ( _which he returned_ ), Azula turned back to her brother, her expression all business. "Hey, Zu-Zu, I'm just talking crazy here-"

"Is there any other way to talk right now?" Sokka asked.

"You would be the expert," Azula observed.

Sokka laughed. "Hey, I believe very strongly in sticking to what you know best."

Azula rolled her eyes, before returning her attention to Zuko, who was in the middle of sharing a chuckle at the exchange of barbs with his wife. "But no, seriously, Zu-Zu, I know this is going to sound crazy, but…well… _you don't think…_ I mean, what with the crazy light and impossible things and everything…"

Zuko exchanged a look with Katara, who sighed and shrugged before she turned to Azula. "Honestly, Zula, we've been thinking the same thing, but until this kid wakes up and gives us some answers, it's probably best not to follow that road too far."

"It would be kind of ironic, though," Sokka observed, pursing his lips in thought as he stroked the thick two-day's-worth of stubble on his chin, "considering the conversation we were all having, just before you two rode off."

Katara grimaced. "That would certainly be one word for it…"

To that, no one could think of a single thing to say. At a loss, they all turned their mounts north, and rode for the horizon, as fast as they possibly could, all of them thinking one word, but none yet daring to say it:

 _Avatar._

* * *

To say that the boy was confused when he woke up, would be a disservice to the word _confused. Confused_ didn't even _begin_ to cover how he felt. He opened his eyes to find himself in a strange room, buried under blankets made of animal hides and trimmed with fur, his mouth tasting disgustingly of a meat-flavored broth. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, feeling weak and fuzzy. There was a strange sensation on his skin, and he looked down in horror to discover that not only where his blankets trimmed in fur, but so were his clothes.

It was when snatches of conversation in a language he didn't understand ( _which was rare for him, for reasons that will soon become quite clear_ ) that it finally hit him, a realization that struck with the force of a chunk of wood to the head:

 _I never made it home._

Fear reached up and strangled him. His chest was tight, his head was swimming. Tears burned in his eyes, tears he was too upset and confused and frightened to shed, or even be aware of. He flailed about on the bed, only to find himself hopelessly tangled up in the blankets, the unfamiliar clothes almost burning on his skin. Over and over again, one phrase pounded in his skull, on and on, ever stronger, until it threatened to tear him apart from the inside-out:

 _I have to go home. I have to go home. I have to go_ _ **HOME!**_

He would forever thank whatever gods there might be, whether he truly believed in them or not, that the girl came in just then.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

The words were in Inuktitut, a language he spoke quite well, though there was something off, something he couldn't quite put a finger on, about the way she spoke. His head whipped around, followed quickly by the rest of his body, and almost instantly, he was at peace.

There she stood, smiling at him, _at_ _ **him,**_ the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn't know why, but just the sight of her made him feel better than he'd felt in… _felt in…_

He frowned, pushed the thought away. It was like the monks had always taught him: _Do not fret over what you cannot control; it will only destroy your spirit, for no discernible gain._

He did his best to smile, absently running some fingers through his hair. _Just one year,_ he thought with annoyance. _One year, and I would've been sixteen and they would've shaved my head and ended my novitiate and I'd be on my way to master's tattoos._ He sighed, shaking his head. _They'll_ _ **never**_ _let me take my vows that early, not after_ _ **this**_ _little stunt._ Pushing that thought aside, stowing it along with all the others, he returned the girl's smile and said, also in Inuktitut, "Oh, hey…yeah, I suppose so…how long was I out?"

The girl frowned, her eyebrows knitted in confusion as she moved to a table and began setting up some sort of meal. "You know, young man, I'm afraid that's a…heh…that might be a more difficult question to answer than you might think."

For some reason he couldn't explain, that sent a jagged spike of ice-cold fear right back into his heart. He flinched as if struck, nibbling on a corner of his bottom lip as he tried to comprehend why the girl's answer unsettled him so. "I…well…um…what do you mean?"

The girl shrugged, looking as confused as he felt. "Honestly? I haven't the faintest idea. Not much of this is making sense right now. Let's just go with, _five days._ "

His shoulders slumped in abject defeat. "Oh gods, _five days?_ That means…oh, _man,_ my Mom is going to _kill me." And let's not even_ _ **think**_ _about what Monk Gyatso is going to have to say about this._ He shuddered at the very thought; the Southern Air Temple's novice master was a kindly man, without a mean bone in his body, but even he had his limits. _And this is certainly one of them._

The girl, meanwhile, was looking up from the table, where she had set up two steaming bowls, a teapot, two cups of tea, and a loaf of bread. "You have a mother?"

The boy nodded, slowly untangling himself from the blankets and sliding off the bed. "Oh, yeah! A Mom and a Dad, though I spend most of my time in the temple, with the other novices, but, yeah, _still,_ I just..." He shuddered once more, as much from the thought of what his father would have to say as from the cold that pricked at his feet through the heavy woolen socks someone had dressed him with. "You know, let's not worry about that."

The girl laughed, and the boy just about swooned. _Gods, she's wonderful. How did I get so lucky?_ "Fair enough," she said, settling herself in one of the chairs and gesturing at the other. "How about we have something to eat?"

His stomach growled, and he shot for the open chair. "You know, that sounds like an excellent idea." He settled himself down, took a big drink of the tea, and leaned down to take a whiff of the broth. Instantly, his stomach went from rumbling to queasy, and he couldn't help but make a face. "Um…I don't mean to be rude, but…what's in this broth?"

The girl was already taking a sip, which she finished before she answered. "Um…penguin-seal meat, mostly, along with a bunch of other things. It's one of my personal favorites."

He nodded, remembering many uncomfortable meals with people from the Water Tribes ( _which he didn't have to be an idiot to figure out he was among right then_ ). "Ah…well…like I said, I don't mean to be rude, but, you see…I'm a vegetarian…"

If the girl was impressed by this, she didn't show it. If anything, it irritated her; her face hardened, and she shot him a look that reminded him so strongly of his mother that he just about flinched. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but it's the middle of winter, and fresh fruit and vegetables are hard to come by, besides which, you need your strength. So," she continued, tapping his bowl with her spoon, "eat up, don't fuss, and if you finish it, I promise to get you something nice and green as soon as the spring comes."

She didn't raise her voice, or even look at that angry ( _more annoyed than anything else_ ), but he couldn't help but wilt under her gaze. Casting his eyes at the ground, he nodded and muttered, " _Oh, sorry…_ "

She rolled her eyes and reached out to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry about it, kid. I was pretty picky when I was your age, too. Still, your health is my number one priority, so I'm afraid I'm not in a mood to bend."

He shrugged, feeling somewhat better, now that she was smiling her wonderful, gorgeous, _amazing_ smile again. "Oh, well…I know, and you're right…I didn't think…"

"Like I said, don't worry about it. Now, eat up."

And so he began to eat. He had to force down the first few bites, but after that, he had to admit that the broth wasn't all that bad, and it _did_ make him feel better ( _though how much of that was due to the broth and how much to the girl, he honestly couldn't say, and didn't want to know_ ). Sure, he fantasized about the fresh fruit tarts his fellow novices were probably gorging on back at the temple all through the meal, but hey, the girl was right: He needed his strength, and it _was_ the middle of winter. _Never mind that I'm a guest here. Man, Mom would be_ _ **furious**_ _if she knew what I'd just said._

As they ate, they talked, the girl opening with something he hadn't even had time to think about. "So," she said, all while observing perfectly correct table manners, _almost like a noble lady from the Fire Nation,_ he thought with confusion, "while we're eating, we might as well get to know each other. I'm Katara."

He smiled, mostly because she was smiling, too. _Gods, what a dope. Thank all the spirits that ever were and ever will be that Kalgen can't see me now._ "Well, nice to meet you, Katara. I'm Aang."

She dipped her head, a sign of respect that he returned. "Nice to meet you, too, Aang. And, before you're fed enough to think about it, your air bison's fine. We had to leave it in Kuujjuarapik – the place we found you – because it was still resting, but we just got a bird from the village, and it seems he's awake and just as confused as you are."

The relief he felt could not possibly be put into words. "Oh, man, that…that's the best news I've heard so far." _Other than your name._ "I was really worried something bad had happened."

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that you're out of the words on that score, but nevermind." Before he could ponder that ominous-sounding remark, she pressed on. "Point is, as soon as you're rested, we take you down to fetch him."

He brightened, eager to share as much as possible with this beautiful young woman. "Oh, don't worry about that. Did you find my whistle? You know, the hunk of wood on a string that I had around my neck?"

She pondered a moment before nodded. "The thing shaped like an air bison? We did; it's over there in that bag at the foot of your bed."

He smiled, doing his best to charm her with his confidence and infamously ( _back home, at least_ ) dopey grin. "Well, that's an air bison whistle. I blow, and Appa – that's his name – will come straight here."

"Well, that's one less thing we have to worry about!" They ate in silence for a moment, before the boy called Aang finally worked up the courage to ask something that had begun to pray on his mind, now that the broth and the company was settling his spirit.

"Hey, um…Katara? Mind if I ask you a question?"

Katara smiled. "Anything you need to know, you just ask, Aang."

He swooned, and he felt no shame in the fact. "Well, it's just…when I first woke up, I remember your face…but…there was another face…I'm not sure if I was imagining things or not. I mean, it's just…it was this guy, right? Fire Nation by his looks, and he had this…this hideous scar, and this eye…and I just…I dunno…"

He looked up from his food to Katara, and didn't like what he saw. She was still smiling, but there was something missing from the smile, something that had leaked out of her eyes and replaced the warmth and care that had pouring forth from her, just a moment before.

The voice she answered him with was even worse.

"Look, Aang, you just woke up, you're confused, and you're just a kid, so I'm going to be nicer about this than I usually would be. How old are you, by the way?"

"Um…fifteen…"

"Ah, that explains a lot. _Still,_ if you're going to be hanging around here for a bit, there're a few things you need to know. _One,_ that _man with the hideous scar_ happens to be my husband, Zuko."

His heart fell right through his stomach and into his toes. If he could've curled up on the floor and become one with the earth, he would've happily sold his soul to do it. _Always sticking my foot in my mouth. Monk Gyatso was right: It'll be the death of me, one of these days._ "Oh…um…your…heh…your _husband…?"_

She nodded, and he took a little bit of solace in that some of her smile was leaking back into her eyes. "Yes, my _husband,_ in case you were wondering why a Southern Water Tribe girl wears a Fire Nation wedding band on her finger."

His eyes shot to the plain gold band on her left ring finger, something he had forgotten all about. His eyes traveled up, to her throat, to the two medallions hanging from the choker around her neck, one blue as her eyes, the other a deep, lustrous purple. "Yeah, I…heh…I was a bit confused by that…" He frowned, took another look at her. "Um…how old are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "You _are_ fifteen, aren't you?" The smile was back in her eyes, and he knew then that he had gotten off light; only his age and his unique circumstances had earned him forgiveness, but even his brain and its propensity for what his friends called _word vomit_ knew that he would be unwise to try his luck again. Meanwhile, Katara was speaking once more. "As for your question, I'm twenty-one, and I've been married for a year."

He nodded, trying to smile like the carefree kid he was at heart, though something kept stopping him, something he couldn't _begin_ to comprehend. "Oh, well…congratulations, Katara."

She bowed her head, which more than anything showed who her husband was. "Thank you, Aang. Now, back to the subject at hand…I had another point, that being point _two:_ I can tell you're a sweet kid, and I have a soft spot in my heart for people in need, but if you ever, and I mean _ever,_ say something like that about my husband's scar again, you'll wish you were never born. Are we clear?"

He hung his head in shame. "Yes, ma'am…"

She brightened right back up, and patted his shoulder. "Now, like I said, you're new, confused, and couldn't possibly know. So, forget all about it, alright?"

He felt his smile return, slowly, but it was there. "Alright…"

She gave his arm a squeeze, went back to her food. "Well, now that that's settled, any questions?"

He let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding. "Well, now that you mention it…"

She giggled, which he was depressed to discover sounded just as wonderful now as it did before he noticed the wedding band and the betrothal necklace ( _never mind that she might as well have_ _ **Married and Loving It**_ _tattooed in big letters on her forehead, you big idiot_ ). "I had a feeling that would be your answer."

"Heh…yeah…well, um…first off…where am I?"

"I can answer that one easily enough: Katvik, in the land of the Yuupik Tribe."

His heart fell once more, which he didn't think was possible, but somehow was. "That's… _man,_ I don't even…that's a long way from where I thought I was. I mean, just, like, a week ago or so, depending on how long I was out before you found me, I was in Kugluktuk, you know, over in-"

"In the Inupiat Tribe's lands," she interjected, though she didn't look happy about it. "When did you say you were there?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't have been more than a week or two. I went there…um…I just needed to get away, clear my head. I'd just learned something…well…something kind of mind-shattering, you know what I mean? So I told my parents and the novice master that I needed to get some room to breathe, hopped on Appa, and popped down to Kugluktuk, where I'd made a few friends a few months back."

The look of alarm on her face continued to grow, along with the fear that continued to burn, deep in his heart, fear that was all the worse because he hadn't the faintest idea where it was coming from, or why he was so scared.

 _Oh, please, please,_ _ **please,**_ _I just want to go_ _ **home…**_

"How long did you stay, if I might ask?"

He shrugged. "About two weeks or so, and let me tell you, it did me a world of good. I was just about ready to go home after that, you know, sit down with my family and friends and get things sorted. I just…heh…I like to do random things sometimes, you know? And I knew I wouldn't be able to do that for a while, so I figured, _I've never been to the Polar Mountains, why not pop down, check them out, pop back, have a last party with my friends, and home I'll go?"_

She nodded, slow and sure, desperately trying to control the ever-growing alarm she was feeling from showing on her face, and doing a terrible job at it. "Uh huh…and then what happened?"

He didn't like the tone of her voice, hated it, wanted to run away from it, bury his head underneath those ugly blankets, pretend none of this had ever happened, close his eyes and wish on a thousand falling stars that this was all just a dream, _all just a terrible dream…_

 _But that's not how life works, is it?_ Even at fifteen, he knew that. And so, not being able to think of anything else to do, he answered her question.

"Well, I made it to the mountains, found this beautiful peak, sat and meditated for a bit, and then I saw this big storm rolling in, and decided to get back to the coast. Unfortunately, I got caught in it, I must've been blown _way_ of course, to end up in your tribe's lands, but…I dunno. I don't really remember anything after that."

All she did was nod, up and down, over and over, eyes wide, face pale.

All she said was, "Uh huh."

He looked down at his lap, where his hands were clasped together, his knuckles white. There was a hot, jagged lump in his throat, and he wanted to cry, though he had no idea why. "Um…Katara…?"

"Yes, Aang?"

"What…what aren't you telling me?"

"I…I don't know if I should tell you that right now…I think I should go get the others…"

"I…" He took a deep, painful breath, held it, let it out. "I…I need to know, Katara. What…my parents…Monk Gyatso…my friends…they're all worried sick about me, they should've…they should've sent word, come looking for me, I…what…what's wrong…?"

"Like I said…"

He looked up at her, and was thankful he could not see his face.

 _"Katara, please…"_

She took a deep breath of her own, one that seemed to hurt her as much as his had hurt him. She let it out, reached across the table, took his hands from his lap, held them tight. The last thing he thought, before she began to speak, was, _Man, that Zuko guy is lucky. She's going to make an_ _ **awesome**_ _mother._

And then, she told him. Told him that there had been no storm that bad in the area for at least a month. Told him that Kugluktuk had been destroyed in a Fire Nation attack forty years before. As she talked, other people came in, another young man who looked Katara's brother, and a girl of the Fire Nation with her jet-black hair in a neat Water Tribe braid, and the young man with the scar who Aang now knew was Katara's husband. They all came in, Zuko sitting down and putting an arm around his wife, holding her tight, the other boy taking one of Aang's hands, the Fire Nation girl settling her hands on his shoulders and squeezing.

They all took turns, telling him the things he had demanded, begged, _pleaded_ to know, and he hated himself for having asked. Because, see, the world had been consumed by a horrid war for nearly a century, a war he knew absolutely nothing about, a war started by the man Aang knew as Fire Lord Sozin, who had been dead for over sixty years, all of which could mean only one thing, and one thing only:

He had been trapped in a ball of impossible ice, him and Appa, for almost a hundred years.

It was a long time before he was able to stop crying, and even then, it was only because he had cried himself to sleep.

In the morning, when he woke up, he went to them, the only four people in the world he knew, and said the last thing he wanted to say, but something that should've been said long ago.

"I'm the Avatar," he said, trying not to think about everything that had been lost to him, focusing on these four, the people who had saved him from the ice, the people he desperately needed to be his friends.

"I'm the Avatar," he began again, took a deep breath, let it out, and finished.

"And I need your help."

Somehow, he wasn't the least bit surprised that none of them had to even think twice.

* * *

Zuko found his sister outside, looking up at the night sky. It was, he had to admit as he joined her in her silent vigil, a gorgeous night, the endless, blue-black vault pocked with twinkling stars. He sighed, threw an arm around her shoulders, pulled her close, felt her slide an arm around his back and give him a squeeze right back.

"You sure you really want to do this?" he asked, eyes locked on the stars.

Beside him, Azula scoffed, ever the princess, no matter the clothes she wore or the way she did her hair. "Of course I do. It's our big chance, isn't it?" Her voice fell, and he did his best to ignore the way the breath she took shook and wavered. " _It's **my** big chance..."_

He frowned, turned to look at her, for all that she seemed to have buried herself in his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Heh...it's my big chance to make it all up to you, to make it right, to...to..."

He rolled his eye and planted a big, sloppy kiss into the top of her head. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Zula, you don't owe me _anything._ It wasn't your fault, and I don't regret what I did. If it happened tomorrow, I'd do the same thing in a heartbeat."

She sighed, and he just _knew_ she was rolling her eyes back. "Honor before reason, eh?"

" _And death before dishonor._ And maybe, just maybe...this is our chance to remind our people of just what that means."

"I'm on board with that. Plus, you know...heh...it'll be pretty kickass to see Katara as a queen."

"It will make up for you never getting us a wedding present."

"Who's to say this wasn't my planned wedding present all along?"

"...you're ridiculous, Zula. I love you, brat."

"Love you, too, dope."

With that, they hugged, and went back inside, to plot with the Avatar.

They all left three weeks later.

* * *

Man, I am so happy with how this is turning out; it's a huge relief, too, because of the week of agony this last prompt caused me. *shakes fist in impotent rage*

But, as usual, I digress. What I really like about this is that I managed to not only give Aang some kind of backstory, thus turning him into a normal kid, but also had him react realistically to the news about the hundred-year nap and what his people went through. In this AU, as usual in my works, the Air Nomads weren't wiped out, because that just doesn't happen in the real world; genocide never works. The problem is, they were hurt bad, scattered, disoriented, and dealt a blow that it will take centuries to recover from, nevermind the fact that, even if people Aang knew and cared for lived through Sozin's campaign, it's been a hundred years; they're still dead. And instead of that one freak-out in the third episode, Aang has an actual _reaction._

That always bothered me; don't know if I'm the only one, but I like to think I'm not alone.

Not much else to add! In the next chapter, Kanna gets her chance to shine. Stay tuned!


	9. Maelstrom, Part Three

HOLY SHIT MAN WE MADE IT! I'm super stoked about this one guys, which is why I won't take up too much of your time. As usual, of course, you will find adult language to be as common as my dog rolling onto her back and huffing until I rub her belly. ALLON-SY!

* * *

 **Maelstrom, Part Three**

THE OLD WOMAN SAT IN A CHAIR BY THE SEA, AND WAITED.

Out upon the water, not too far from where she sat, things were happening. A massive Fire Nation ship, all hard metal and jagged points and ragged lines, sat at anchor, thrumming with shouted orders and unconcealed menace. Lights twinkled, and torches ran to-and-fro, men in scarlet-and-black rushing about, barking in what to the old woman sounded like an ugly, harsh, guttural language. For a moment, she found herself unable to truly believe that those people out there on the water could be from the same land, speak the same language, worship the same gods, as the two citizens of the Fire Nation that she had come to know and love and care for. She thought of a boy with half-a-face, the perfect husband for her beloved granddaughter, always so quiet and morose and awkward, thought of the girl who was his sister, with her impeccable manners and her golden eyes burning with defiance and pride, and just couldn't quite believe it.

 _But it doesn't matter what I believe, does it? I'm just an old woman, waiting to meet her fate._

When she saw that two launches were detaching themselves from the hulk that had brought them here, saw that the launches were packed with soldiers, spear-points twinkling like stars in the flickering light of the torches, she closed her eyes. There was nothing to see out there that interested her, nothing at all.

She closed her eyes, and waited, humming a soft, gentle tune, the one her mother used to sing to her at night, in a warm, quiet house, far, far to the north.

* * *

Sokka didn't even look up at the soft rapping at the door; if anything, he barely noticed it. He had been lost in his own thoughts for a long, long time, or at least, that's what it felt like. He was sitting in his room, in a chair facing his bed. Scattered all across his bed were all kinds of odds and ends, everything he might possibly need for the journey he was about to undertake. He reached out, ran his fingers lightly over the compass his grandfather had given him, fiddled with the boomerang he had made when he was twelve, cast a glance at the spear propped up in the corner, the spear his own father had given him, the day he passed his ice-dodging trial.

He sat there, surrounded by his life, surrounded by the reminders of everything he had held dear, since the moment he had first drawn breath, and realized he didn't want to go.

The rapping came again, gentle, quiet. He heaved himself back in his chair, tipping himself back with a booted foot pushing on his bedframe, his fingers lacing into a cradle behind his head. Without looking at the door, he said, "It's alright, Gran-Gran; you can come in."

The door opened, slowly, carefully, and he turned to watch his grandmother make her way into the room, letting the door swing shut behind her with a gentle _thud._ He didn't bother to stand up, fawn over his mother's mother, pull out a chair and wrap her in a blanket; after all, his sister didn't take after their mother's side of the family for nothing. He knew _exactly_ what his Gran-Gran would say, if he tried to do any of that: _I'm old, young man, but I'm not decrepit. Quit your fussing and sit down before I make you._

Gran-Gran chuckled, in that strange, low, raspy manner that the elderly have. She settled herself on the edge of Sokka's bed, pushing a few of his carefully arranged items out of her way, as was her right. She tapped her cane, once, twice, thrice, her gnarled hands carefully arranged on the knob at the top. "You know, my boy, I have to ask: How did you know it was me?"

He shrugged, not even bothering to not look smug. "Well, it's easy, really: Zuko would just stand outside the door, shuffling and coughing until I came out to him, Katara doesn't _knock_ so much as _bang,_ and I doubt Azula even knows _how_ to do something as pedestrian as _knocking on a door._ "

Gran-Gran smirked, nodding as if he had imparted something of great wisdom. "You do have a point there, Grandson."

He spread his hands, as if to say, _Yeah, I'm brilliant; no need to flatter me._ "Well, Katara's not around, so I get to have those from time-to-time."

Gran-Gran laughed. "That's true…though, if I'm right about the journey you're about to embark upon, she might finally let you have the last word by the end of it."

To that, Sokka could only scoff, in a very conscious imitation of Azula. " _Please._ The day that happens is the day penguin-seals fly." He took another look at his grandmother, let the front legs of his chair return to earth with a _thump._ "You alright, Gran-Gran?"

Gran-Gran, to his surprise, shook her head. "No, dear heart, I'm not alright. My grandchildren, both the ones of my blood and the ones of my heart, are about to run off into the wild blue yonder, pinning their hopes on a fifteen-year-old boy who's voice has barely cracked yet."

Sokka sighed, his shoulders slumping, a hand wandering up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah…Aang can get a bit squeaky sometimes."

"He's a good boy."

"I never said he wasn't," Sokka said, raising a finger into the air. "He's just…you know…"

" _Fifteen,_ " his grandmother finished for him.

"Heh…yeah…though, you know, I've been thinking…"

"No."

That brought him up short. He jerked up in his chair, hoping that he didn't look as confused as he felt, _I have a reputation to maintain here, Inner Sokka._ "Um…huh?"

Gran-Gran just shook her head, her lips pressed thin in a smile he couldn't help but call _sad._ "I said, _no._ You have to go, Grandson."

He grimaced, heaving a mental groan at how his hand was rubbing the back of his neck again. _I have_ _ **got**_ _to stop hanging around Zuko so much;_ _ **His Royal Awkwardness**_ _is starting to rub off on me_ _ **.**_ "Yeah, but…Dad left me in charge here, didn't he? Doesn't that mean that my responsibility is to stay here?"

Once more, Gran-Gran shook her head, even as her smile and her voice remained kind. "You do have a responsibility to your people, Sokka, which is why you have to go. Ah," she said, raising a hand as he opened his mouth to speak, "don't interrupt your grandmother, show some respect. Listen to me: You have a responsibility to your people, but above and beyond that, you have a responsibility to the world and, finally, to your family. Your sister is going, your brother-in-law, your sister-in-law, and that sweet boy. Your destiny is no longer here, Grandson." She turned her hand into a finger, and pointed towards the north. "Your destiny is out _there._ "

He slumped back in his chair, knowing he was beaten, glad he had been, because, well, he didn't want to go, _but he desperately needed to, all at the same time._ "You're right, Gran-Gran."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, her smile finally reaching her eyes. "Of course I am, Sokka. When am I not?"

"Heh…and here I thought _I_ was the confidant one."

"You didn't get it all from your father, young man."

"No," he admitted, standing up and wrapping his grandmother in a tight hug, "I didn't." He gave her a final squeeze, then stepped away. "I love you, Gran-Gran."

She stood, leaning heavily on her cane as she made her way to the door. "I love you, too, Sokka. Now, get packed, or you'll spend the first month of your _Great Big Adventure_ listening to your sister berate you for being late once again."

He was already getting to it. "Yes, Gran-Gran…"

* * *

Tokugawa Jiro, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, all of eighteen-years-old, shook his head, his features twisted as if he had just bitten into something sour. "I don't like this."

Beside him, his sister, Tokugawa Fumiko, the sixteen-year-old Princess, just rolled her eyes, hand resting on the hilt of her _katana,_ already striding towards the strange old woman holding her strange vigil by the shore. "You don't like anything, Brother Mine."

"Well," Jiro said, taking a few quick, awkward steps as he caught up with his sister, while all around them, soldiers fanned out through the silent, pitch-black town, "I like you."

Fumiko came to a stop, rounded on him, eyes filled with what could only be described as _disdain._ "Then, Brother Mine, you're even dumber than I thought."

He tried not to wilt under her glare, he really did. "Could you please stop calling me that, Fumiko?"

She just rolled her eyes and turned back to the old woman. "Make me."

He had nothing to say to that, but, then again, _I never do, do I?_ And he had nothing to say to that, either.

They had finally reached the old woman. Everything about the set-up made alarm bells ring in Jiro's head. There was the town, fairly sizeable by local standards, but dead-quiet, without so much as a flickering candle to be seen. He couldn't hear a sound, nothing beyond the whisper of the wind and the jangling of little talismans against evil spirits ringing in the breeze, and as for the old woman? She just sat there, hands carefully arranged atop an old, weather-beaten cane, smiling as if she had been expecting them, as if they were little more than a couple of kids who were about to be late for dinner.

It made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Good evening," the old woman said in polished, urbane Inuktitut, as Jiro and Fumiko came to a stop before her. She tapped a finger against the wood of her cane, once, twice, thrice, before looking up at the endless vault of the night sky. "Nice night, isn't it? Not so much as a wisp of cloud to block our view of the stars."

Jiro frowned, but before he could say a word, his sister beat him to the punch. "You're a Northerner," she said, pursing her lips in thought. "I can hear it in your voice."

The old woman's smile grew, and she dipped her head. "So I am. It seems, no matter how long I live here, I can never quite shake that accent. And you," she continued, arching an eyebrow as she examined them, utterly heedless of the soldiers stomping through her town, "are from the Fire Nation."

Fumiko scoffed, so at ease with the strange situation that, not for the first time, Jiro found himself worrying for his sister's sanity. "Well, you're just _full_ of wisdom tonight, aren't you, you old hag?"

If the woman was bothered by the insult, she didn't show it. If anything, to Jiro's eyes, she seemed to almost draw strength from it. "You know," she said, still with that maddeningly serene smile on her face, "it would do you some good, to take a lesson from your brother in manners."

Fumiko let out another scoff, jerking a thumb at Jiro. "What, from _him?_ Surely you jest."

The smile vanished, and Jiro couldn't help but feel that somehow, someway, this old woman was dangerous. "Oh, not from him. I mean your _other_ brother. You know, the Crown Prince Zuko."

Jiro watched, entranced, as what little levity his sister was capable of drained from her face. Her eyes became hard and cold, and Jiro looked to the old woman, amazed at how little she seemed to care that she was perilously close to death.

"And what," Fumiko snarled, fist tightening on the hilt of her _katana,_ "would you know about that little waste of space?"

"Well," the woman said, still smiling, eyes almost laughing, "I know that he's an almost painfully awkward, shy young man, that he's ten times the prince this little whelp could ever hope to be, and that I couldn't have asked for a better husband for my granddaughter."

That night, for the first time in his life, Jiro saw what his sister looked like when she was surprised. " _What._ "

The old woman threw back her head and laughed, continuing to chuckle as she heaved herself out of her chair, patted the wrinkles from her clothes, turned on her heel, and began making her way into the heart of the town.

"You see, young ones," she said, not even bothering to look over her shoulder to see if they were following, "my name is Kanna, and I think you and I have a great deal to talk about."

Fumiko's shock didn't last for long. She rounded on her brother, sending Jiro rocking back on his heels, jabbing a finger so hard into his armored chest that he winced on her behalf.

"Listen carefully, _Brother Mine:_ This woman knows something, and I'm going to find out what it is. Meanwhile, tear this town apart, piece-by-piece if you have to. If there's so much as a chair intact by the time I'm done, I'll make sure Father knows how badly you've failed him."

For a split second, Jiro wasn't there. He was fifteen again, watching as Azula and Zuko were lashed to the same whipping post, out there before the entire court, the guardsmen making sure they could get a good look at each other, for all that Zuko was half-blind and delirious from the pain of his burn. He felt his father's breath on his ear, desperately tried not to flinch as his father's words cracked like the whip that a guardsman was giving a few test flicks through the air over Zuko's head.

 _Watch closely, my son, and see what happens to those who defy me. Watch closely, and remember for the rest of your days the price of failure._

Jiro nodded, mind blank, emotions carefully stored away, just as he did then, just as he did now.

"Understood, Sister."

Fumiko gave him a short, savage nod. "See that you do, Brother Mine." Her last barb delivered, she turned on her heel, and strode off after the old woman named _Kanna._

* * *

"You know, dear heart, you don't have to pace for five minutes outside the door before you come and talk to me. You did right by my granddaughter, which means you have nothing to fear from me."

Zuko stopped dead in his tracks, once more wondering if all old people could read minds, or if it was just that his thoughts were outrageously transparent. Fighting a blush of embarrassment every step of the way, he leaned over, peering around the wall and into the kitchen, where the woman he couldn't make himself stop addressing as _Lady Kanna_ was calmly stirring a pot of delicious-smelling broth, smiling to herself, as was her wont.

"Oh…um…hello, Lady Kanna," he said, sliding around that wall and into the kitchen, rendering the old woman a perfectly correct bow, _no doubt my etiquette teacher would be impressed._ "I…um…well…heh…"

Kanna just shook her head, clucking her tongue against her teeth. "How long have we known each other, young man?"

"Um…three years, my lady."

"Hmm…and in that time, how is it that you're still terrified of me?"

 _Because, instead of stopping your granddaughter from running off on some harebrained adventure, which has a very good likelihood of getting her killed, I not only enthusiastically supported her, but just finished helping her pack?_ "Well…um…you see, back home…"

Kanna turned her head _just enough_ to give him a _look_ out of the corners of her eye that reminded him strikingly of his wife. "Are you about to trot out that whole, _respect to one's elders_ thing you keep falling back on? Because, correct me if I'm wrong, that hasn't stopped your sister from giving me hugs and calling me _Gran-Gran._ "

 _Oh, Azula. Three years we've been away from the Palace, and you're still getting me into trouble._ Not that Zuko would have it any other way, as his wife often pointed out to him. "Well…um…that's my sister, you know?"

Kanna giggled, almost like the little girl Zuko suspected she still was at heart. _Uncle would've loved you._ "Yes, that is your sister, isn't it?" She turned her full attention back to her pot, pursing her lips in thought before grabbing a handful of something Zuko couldn't get a good look at and sprinkling it into the broth. "What can I do for you today, my dear?"

 _That's an excellent question: What_ _ **am**_ _I doing here?_ Zuko was pretty sure that he used to know, but it seemed to have flown from his mind. "Well, you see…"

"Mind if I ask you a question?"

He blinked, what little he had had in a _coherent train of thought_ now completely vanished from his brain. _As usual; everywhere I go, there's some Water Tribe woman making me splutter like a fool._ "Of course, my lady."

"Why the wedding bands?"

He frowned; he had been expecting a lot of questions ( _maybe even a few beatings, for not even_ _ **trying**_ _to stop Katara_ ), but this had definitely not been one of them. He looked down, at his left hand, at the band of gold winking from the ring finger. Back home, the high born often adorned their wedding rings with jewels, the more jewels, the higher born the wearer. Had he remained a prince, no doubt he would've had one worth more than most of his subjects made in a year. As it was, though, his band was plain, a simple loop of gold, and he loved it for that.

 _I wouldn't have it any other way._

"Well…it's just that…every nation, it seems, has something to mark out a married person. In the Earth Kingdom, for example, they wear bands of iron on their right ring fingers, to symbolize how the bones of the earth bind them all together, while in the Northern Water Tribe-"

Kanna shot him another _look_ , though, as ever, it was without so much as a hint of malice. "I'm well aware how these things work in the North, young man."

He tried not to gulp, he really did. "Oh, right, _of course._ Heh…um…but, yeah, in the Fire Nation, we have the same thing, only with bands of gold. Gold is considered the highest of the metals, never rusting, glimmering like the fire that burns in our people's hearts. In other words-"

"It symbolizes a couple's eternal bond, both in this life and the next, in a way that does honor to the element that binds your people together."

He chuckled, bowing his head in acknowledgement of her wisdom. "That's about the long-and-short of it, my lady." He frowned, dropping his hand back to his side. "Though, if I might ask-"

She was way ahead of him. _As usual,_ he thought with a subtle grin. "You know, when Katara told me about those rings, that she would be wearing one of them, I have to admit, I wasn't keen on the idea. She had a betrothal necklace, after all; what more did she need? But then she told me what you just told me, and I realized that what you two have? It's unlike anything I've ever seen before, or am likely to see again. And when I saw the way her eyes sparkled as she tried the ring on…well…"

Kanna turned her face away from her broth for the first time, looked Zuko right in the eye.

"That was when I knew she had chosen the right man, no matter what the future held in store for her." She rolled her head from side-to-side, as if chewing on her words, before turning back to the broth. "Was there anything else, dear heart?"

All he could do was shake his head and bow. _Out-witted once again._ "No, my lady. That was…that was all."

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, from what I last heard, the Avatar is once more trying to get some delightful-sounding little detour put on the itinerary, and my grandson is probably desperately in need of some back-up."

Zuko frowned. _Oh, gods, what now? Is it that Unagi bullshit again?_ "Ah…then I better get going…"

"Yes," Kanna said, smiling all the while, "you should, before your sister gets involved."

Zuko felt his eye go wide as a saucer. _That's all we need._ "Ah, yeah, definitely…" He started to turn, stopped himself, turned back, fired off a quick bow, muttered, _Thank you, my lady,_ and ran out the door.

* * *

For quite possibly the first time in her life, the Princess Fumiko was confused. It was a new sensation for her, and one she was discovering she liked not in the least. Nothing quite seemed to make sense, not this random old woman who seemed not the least bit afraid of her ( _another new sensation for Fumiko_ ), and definitely not the way that this same old woman was now pressing a bowl of rather enticing-smelling broth into her hands. Not entirely sure what else to do, Fumiko frowned at the soup, lifting it up for a long, careful sniff.

Which immediately sent the old woman, who was settling into a chair with her own bowl of broth, into hysterics. "Oh, young lady, I can assure you, it's not poisoned."

Fumiko popped an eyebrow, wondering if this strange old hag could read minds. "How can I be sure of that?"

The old woman shrugged, taking up a spoon and digging into her broth. "For one, I wouldn't even know how, and for two, unlike your father, we of the Water Tribes don't stoop to such lows."

Fumiko felt herself bristle at the barb. _Sure,_ she thought, _it's true; Father loves a good drop of poison. Still…_ She got ahold of her feelings, calmed down, annoyed that the wrinkled insect before her would dare to get a rise out of her. _Don't you know what you're trifling with, you old bitch?_

Somehow, Fumiko had a feeling that the woman knew _exactly_ who she was trifling with, and didn't give so much as a tinker's dam.

Which only confused Fumiko more.

"That's one way to look at it," Fumiko admitted, deciding to play the waiting game. She reached forward, snatched a spoon, and took a big mouthful of the broth, her eyes popping in surprise. "I have to admit, this is quite good."

The old woman beamed. "I had a feeling you'd like it. As a matter of fact, of all the things I cook, that's your sister's favorite."

Fumiko looked down into her bowl, so as to keep the old woman from seeing the look of shock on her face. "So, you know Azula, too, I take it?"

"Of course I know Azula. Wherever Zuko goes, Azula is bound to be close by."

Fumiko nodded. "That's true. Still, I have to ask-"

The old woman stopped her with a raised hand. "All in good time, my dear, all in good time."

Fumiko smiled, throwing every ounce of her limitless menace and cruelty into the expression. "You do realize that I could have you tortured. All I need do is snap my fingers, and the rest of your miserable life will be spent in pain like you can't imagine."

Over the course of her life, Fumiko had learned much. She had learned how to wield the blue flames, how to be cold and heartless and calculating. She had learned to hate her brother Jiro, and at her mother's side, learned the subtle ways in which a woman could rise above her appointed station.

What she hadn't learned, though, was how to deal with someone who wasn't afraid of her.

Because the old woman wasn't, not in the least. "Oh, that's nice," she said, as if for all the world Fumiko was little more than a small child who had drawn a terrible picture and was sure it was a masterpiece. "Care for something to drink?"

"I mean it," Fumiko snarled, polishing off her broth ( _because good food was good food, and the dreck they served on the ship her brother thought was his was just that,_ _ **dreck**_ ) and setting the bowl aside. "I can give the order with no more thought than if I was stepping on a fly."

The old woman nodded, pursing her lips in thought. "True…but on the other hand, a woman as old as I am? There's no guarantee I'll live long enough to give you what you want, nevermind the fact that a girl as smart as you knows exactly how useless torture is."

Fumiko was still confused, but now, she was intrigued. The old woman spoke the truth: For all that Fumiko worshipped her father, she could never get over his rock-solid belief in torture. _Either the subject will resist until death out of spite,_ she had explained, time and time again, to her brother, _or they'll snap and tell you whatever they think you want to hear to make the pain stop._ Jiro, of course, didn't get it, which was just one more reason why Fumiko had no intention of letting him take the throne from her.

"That's true," Fumiko admitted, deciding to follow this badger-mole hole down as far as it would take her, _who knows, it might be interesting, and I can still kill her at the end if I feel like it,_ "but on the other hand, maybe I'm just a heinous bitch who likes to watch people suffer whenever I get bored."

"That's funny," the old woman said, polishing off her own bowl and leaning forward to ladle herself some more, "because, see, your older sister used almost the _exact same words_ when I asked her to describe you. I mean, sure, there was _much_ more obscenity, but that's Azula for you, lovely child that she is."

Fumiko made a face, not even bothering to hide her chagrin. "Azula, a lovely child? You're full of jokes tonight, hag."

The old woman leaned back in her chair, diving into her broth with aplomb. "You know, a wise man once told me that insults are the last refuge of a weak mind."

"A tutor once tried to tell me that. I had him whipped to death for his impertinence."

"Yes, Azula told me that story, too."

"Is there anything these people calling themselves my siblings didn't tell you?"

"Hmm…besides how, when Zuko was whipped, your father had Azula tied to the same whipping pole as him, so that she had to look him in the eye? Or about how she bit her tongue until it bled, because he'd had you, for all that you were no more than thirteen, tell her that Zuko would get five extra lashes for every peep? Or perhaps-"

" _That's enough!"_ Fumiko roared, jumping to her feet, the fire in the hearth roaring to life, pulsing in time with her heart.

The old woman continued to smile. "Oh, I've just begun, young lady."

Fumiko scoffed, struggling to get her temper under control. "Of that, I have no doubt."

"Heh…do you accept that your older siblings are not only alive, but have been here for three years?"

Fumiko didn't want to, but she nodded all the same. "Fine, I accept that. Father will be tickled pink at the idea of his useless older children cavorting around in furs like barbarians."

"No doubt…but will he be as amused by the knowledge that Zuko has taken a wife? Or that those same _useless children_ discovered the Avatar?"

Fumiko stared. Fumiko blinked. Fumiko gaped.

Fumiko sat back down, and waited.

* * *

"Katara, just what on earth are you doing?"

Katara looked up at the doorway and smiled at her grandmother, before turning her attention back to the sink, where her arms were currently submerged up to their elbows in soapy water. "The dishes, of course."

Gran-Gran rolled her eyes and huffed, shaking her head. "Surely you're joking. This is your last night in your homeland, definitely for a long time, possibly for…for…" Gran-Gran's voice cracked, and Katara tried not to flinch at the sound, concentrated on her dishes. "It's just…why on earth would you spend this night doing the dishes?"

"Because," Katara said, working hard to keep her voice light and even, "who knows when I'll be able to do this again? And besides, you made us dinner."

Gran-Gran sighed, slowly making her way into the kitchen. "Of course I did. It was the least I could do."

Katara nodded. Her face was suddenly red, and her eyes stung. She told herself it was the fault of the soap, maybe she had gotten some in her eyes, _yes, that's it._ She didn't believe this, but she told herself all the same, just as she ignored the lump in the back of her throat, or the way her hands shook under the bubbles.

As usual, though, Gran-Gran didn't believe a word of what Katara didn't even bother to tell her. A hand came to rest on Katara's shoulder, and a voice, soft but firm, said, "Look at me, child."

Katara took a deep breath, lifted her hands from the sink, bent the water from her arms. Only then, when she was sure she had herself composed, did she turn to face her grandmother.

Katara could've handled almost anything just then, anything at all, from demons coming from the depths of the Spirit World to Fire Lord Ozai himself. Yes, she could've handled anything…

Anything but the sight of tears spilling from her grandmother's eyes.

Katara's breath hitched in her throat. Without thinking, she hurled herself into the old woman's arms, held on to her for dear life, her grandmother holding her just as tightly, and let herself go. She sobbed her heart out, and together, the two women had themselves a good cry.

It was, Katara would later decide, one of the best decisions she had ever made.

By the time they were done, they were perched on two stools, wiping their eyes, the dishes forgotten in the sink. They held each other's hands, knuckles turning white with the strain of an inevitable parting, neither them wanting to admit that this might be the last time they ever saw each other.

"I don't hate you, Katara."

Katara sniffed, trying to shrug as nonchalantly as her brother and her sister-in-law could, but failing as she always did, because her and her husband were alike in more ways than even they were aware of. "Are you sure…?"

Gran-Gran released one of her hands, reached up, brushed some fresh tears from Katara's cheeks. "I could never hate you, sweetheart. From the day you were born, I knew that you were meant for something more, something grander than anything you could find here. Your destiny was never here, with us; it was always out there, waiting for you, tugging at you, pulling you away from me."

Katara sighed, gave Gran-Gran's hand a squeeze, wiped her nose with her free hand. "Heh…I just…I need you to know that I never hated it here."

"You think I don't know that? You just felt constrained, restricted, held back. Why else do you think that the only man good enough for you happened to be a prince?"

Katara didn't even try to hold back the blush that blossomed across her face. "He is pretty incredible, isn't he?"

"Yes," Gran-Gran admitted, chuckling softly, "and someday, the gods willing, he might even believe that."

Katara scoffed, a sound not at all marred by her tears. "The gods have nothing to do with it, Gran-Gran."

Gran-Gran laughed. "Of course not; it's just a saying, dear." She gave Katara's hand a final squeeze, let go, and stood. "Feel better?"

Katara nodded, wiping away the last few tears as she stood. "Much."

Gran-Gran nodded, once, very solemnly. "Good. And while we're here, if you absolutely _insist_ on doing the dishes, do me a favor and make sure you actually put them away for once."

Katara giggled, wondering when she would ever feel like a carefree little girl again. "Of course, Gran-Gran."

"Good. Now, I'm going to go fetch your husband, because I like how dry everything gets, and besides, he's the one I can rely on to put everything away exactly how I like it."

Katara was already turning back to the sink, smiling from ear-to-ear. " _Yes, Gran-Gran_."

She would hold on to how good it felt, to say those words, all through the darkness that was to come.

* * *

The old woman told her story in a soft, kind, gentle voice, sounding for all the world like the grandmother everyone wished they could have. She never even stopped smiling as she told it. She never faltered, never blinked, never hesitated, never stumbled over her words. She just kept eating her broth until she'd had her fill, and then she took up her cane, set it between legs, and rested her hands on the top, still talking, never missing a beat.

She told of a brutalized boy and a traumatized girl, of the guards coming to her in the morning, looking embarrassed as they told of sobbing in the night, and how disturbing it was to discover two people who could somehow have nightmares _quietly._ She told of a granddaughter who had chosen, long ago, to ignore her fear, to never be helpless again, and how she fell in love with a prince with half-a-face and the unique ability to become tongue-tied over anything. She told of a grandson who became friends with a princess who never slumped in a chair or slouched as she walked, and how they both plotted to get their siblings together, because they knew what was best for them. She told of her own son-in-law, who wanted to hate the boy and the girl from the nation that killed his wife, but couldn't, how his hatred died the day he ran into the boy in the town bathhouse, and saw what a hundred whip scars looked like. She told of a beautiful wedding on a day when snow fell soft and gentle from the heavens, all while the bells of talismans sang like angels.

Fumiko really wanted her to be done then, but she wasn't. The old woman had made a promise, that she had barely begun, and she kept it, every last syllable. She told of an impossible boy and his impossible bison, freed from an impossible ball of impossible ice. A boy who had lost everything, but still managed to smile, still managed to laugh, to giggle, wild and free. She told of a plan, to wait until the winter storms ended, until the tribe's warriors came back from the Earth Kingdom, to begin the impossible boy's training in quiet solitude at the bottom of the world.

The old woman's expression darkened then, but her voice didn't change, and the smile never left her face, even as she told of the dark rumors, of a massive warship flying the personal standard of the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, of fishermen disappearing into darkness, of the occasional body tossed forth from the sea, horribly mutilated, throat slashed from ear-to-ear. She related a hurried meeting, in the depth of the night, and then she told of another night, when, with a shake of the reins and a strange call that sounded like _yip-yip-yip,_ the impossible boy urged his impossible animal into the sky and flew away until they all became one with the stars.

It was only then that Fumiko found her voice. Later, she would convince herself that it was because she had been waiting for the perfect moment to speak, ignoring the fact that she only spoke again when the old woman settled into silence, bowed her head, and indicated that the princess could speak.

"What…what are you saying? Where are they?"

The old woman sighed, clucking her tongue like the kindly old grandmother that she was. "Oh, my dear, weren't you paying attention? They're gone, have been gone for four days. After they left, we evacuated the town, and for two days now, I've been sitting here, waiting for you. Did you understand this time, or do I need to draw you a picture?"

Fumiko had heard enough. With a roar that wasn't quite human, she jumped to her feet, rounding on the chair when it banged as it hit the ground and turning it to dust with a ragged ball of pale blue flames. She roared again, over and over, until she was standing over the old woman, gripping her by the shirt front, Fumiko's free fist nothing but fire, fire and death.

 _"Laugh now, you old bitch!"_ she screamed, heedless of the fire pulsing with the beat of her heart in the hearth, the fire that roared and crackled and burned. _"Not so funny now, am I?! Come on:_ _ **LAUGH!"**_

And the old woman smiled, and did as she was told. "Okay, young lady: _Ha._ "

It was the last thing Fumiko had ever expected anyone to do, and when it happened, her mind went blank. She knew what to do with fear, with anger, with rage, with defiance, even.

But she didn't know what to do with this.

" _What?"_ she croaked, the fire dying from her fist as she released the old woman's shirt.

The old woman frowned as she patted the wrinkles from her clothes. "You heard me: _Ha._ You don't frighten me, _little girl_ , not you, not your brother stomping around out there with a crown on his head he doesn't deserve, not your monster of a father. You're bullies, plain and simple, and your time is at an end. So," she said, rising to her feet, slamming her cane down on the floor with a resounding _thud_ , "if you're quite finished, I would like you to go, so that my people can come back to their homes."

"We'll see what you have to say when I have this shithole burned to the ground."

The old woman shrugged, undisturbed. "So be it. We've rebuilt before, and we'll rebuild again."

Fumiko wasn't listening; she was already on her way to the door. "Whatever, you barbarian whore. It doesn't matter. Live, for all I care, until the day I bring your grandchildren's heads to you on spikes."

"Maybe so," came the response, as Fumiko stepped out into the night, "or maybe they'll bring me yours." That was the last thing Fumiko heard, as the door slammed shut behind her, which was why she didn't see the old woman named Kanna, known far and wide as _Gran-Gran,_ sigh, shake her head and mutter, "Not that they would ever do that; they have more class."

Not that the Princess Tokugawa Fumiko would have cared.

* * *

"Can't sleep, my dear?"

Azula didn't flinch; to be honest, she wasn't even surprised. Their last hours in the Southern Water Tribe, their last few moments in what had become the only home she'd ever truly known, and here she was, arms wrapped tight around her body, looking up at the distant stars. Everyone was supposed to be catching a few hours of sleep, since Aang had admitted that traveling by air bison took some getting used to.

 _But I can't, can I?_ She was pretty sure no one was. There was a shout and garbled laughter, from where she knew Sokka was having final few drinks with some of the boys. She was pretty sure the squeals and giggles she heard were from Aang and his newfound friends, enjoying Aang's newfound passion for the Southern sport of football. And as for her brother and her sister-in-law…

 _Yeah, yeah, I get it, you won't have a bed to call your own for a long time. Could you at least put a towel under the door? Keep down a bit? I dunno…_ _ **anything?!**_ Not that she was mad; she wasn't. After all, if she was honest with herself, the world could've been quiet as the tomb in which her mother's urn had rested all her life, and she _still_ wouldn't have been able to sleep.

Azula sighed, turning around until she got a good view of Kanna, standing at the foot of Azula's little hill, smiling up at her. "Hey, Gran-Gran," Azula said, giving a feeble wave, feeling none of her brother's awkwardness about using the woman's preferred title. "You, too, I take it?"

Kanna shrugged, waving Azula's question aside. "Oh, you know these old bones. Sometimes they let me rest, and sometimes they don't."

"That must be a pain," Azula observed.

Another shrug, another hand batting the concern away. "You get used to it. How're you, my dear?"

All Azula could do was shrug, not least because it was a question she had, until a moment before, been asking herself. _How_ _ **am**_ _I doing? Here I am, mere hours away from finally setting out on the path I've dreamed of for years, ever since I watched my brother pass out under the blows of the whip, ever since I saw Father's fire meet his face, on the day when my screams matched his own. I should be happy, excited, elated,_ _ **giddy,**_ _and instead, I'm…_

 _I'm…_

"I don't know, Gran-Gran," Azula finally admitted, the mask of the princess finally slipping away, something she rarely let happen away from her friends. _Her family._ "I…I really don't know…"

Kanna shook her head, working her way up the hill until her hand was resting on Azula's shoulder. "Now, young lady, I find that _very_ difficult to believe."

Azula threw Kanna her best smirk, and was rewarded with Kanna's famous laughter. "Hey, it happens to the best of us, you know?"

Kanna nodded, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. "Oh, I know, just as I know that you're well aware of what's wrong."

Azula just threw out another shrug. "Yeah, well…if you figure it out, let me know."

"Alright then: It's okay to be scared, sweetheart."

Azula shook her head, tearing herself from Kanna's grasp, turning her face back towards the stars. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to pour out. _You wouldn't understand,_ she wanted to scream. _You weren't there when Father found out I'd thrown a fit because I'd lost my favorite doll, the doll Zuko had made for me for my third birthday. I was six when I lost it, just misplaced it, something little kids do, and I threw a fit, as little kids do. When a servant found it, they took it to Father. Father was furious. He asked me if I was afraid to lose it, and I was six, and naïve, and admitted that I was. He said,_ _ **Royalty are not afraid,**_ _and then he made me watch as he burned it in his hand. From that day forward, I was forbidden from having dolls._

A wry smile creased her lips.

 _Which didn't stop Zuko from giving me one every birthday, didn't stop me from taking them and hiding them, even when I was too old to play with them anymore._

But she said none of that, settling for, "Are you sure?"

She heard the old woman sigh, listened as she moved around and came to rest at Azula's side. "You were never allowed to be afraid as a child, were you?"

Azula shrugged. "Let's just say that the consequences were rather severe."

"I can't even begin to imagine, but that doesn't change the fact that it's okay to be afraid."

Azula closed her eyes, and pretended with all her willpower that she wasn't about to cry. "But…what could I possibly be afraid of? I'll be with Katara, Sokka, Zuko, the freaking _Avatar._ What's the be scared about?"

"Oh, that's easy: You're scared of getting your brother hurt again."

That hit Azula like a slap to the face, because, oh boy, was it true. The mere thought terrified her beyond the capacity for words to describe. Here, at the bottom of the world, she couldn't get him hurt. As long as she stayed here, kept him here, he was safe, safe from Father, from Jiro and Fumiko and Step-Mother and Imperial Guards and Rough Rhinos and…and…

 _He's safe from me…_

How she didn't burst into tears, she would never know.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

Azula laughed, though even to her eyes, it sounded a lot like a dry sob. "Yeah…it's easy for you to say that. You weren't there."

"It _is_ easy for me to say, because it's true. It was your father's fault, plain and simple, your father's and your ancestors' and the horrid, miserable world that they created. You know how many times my daughter defied me? Or Sokka? Or Katara? You think I ever laid a hand on them?"

"Maybe a wooden spoon or three," Azula pointed out.

Kanna laughed. "Yes, a wooden spoon or three, but nothing more."

Azula sighed, and very quietly, very subtly, wiped her eyes. "So, you're saying I shouldn't be afraid?"

Kanna let out a scoff that Azula had to admit gave her own a run for their money. "Of _course_ you should be afraid. You're human; you can't help it. I'm just saying that you shouldn't be afraid of _yourself._ "

Azula closed her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"More than I've ever been in my entire life."

How long they stood there, Azula would never know. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but then again, it could have more, it could've been less. Maybe, at the end of the day, it didn't matter. By the end of it, Azula wasn't quite ready to believe Kanna, but, well…

"I promise that I'll try, Gran-Gran."

Kanna nodded. "See that you do. Now, give this old woman a hug, and try and get some sleep."

Azula did as she was told, pulling the old woman into a bone-crushing hug, just the kind that Kanna liked best. "Thanks, you old witch."

Kanna giggled. " _There's_ my haughty princess." She gave Azula a squeeze, pulled back until they were at arm's length. "Don't ever stop being you, Azula. I don't think your brother would ever forgive himself, if that happened."

Azula rolled her eyes and scoffed. "My brother's a goof, and doesn't know what's best for himself."

Kanna arched an eyebrow. "And you do?"

Azula threw out her best scoff yet. "Me? _Please._ Why do you think I made sure he married Katara?"

Kanna rolled her own eyes, pulled Azula in a for a final hug, then let her go. "Off with you, before I find something productive for you to do."

Azula snapped off a quick bow. "As you will, my lady." With that, she turned back into the village, and went off in search of wherever it was Sokka thought he was safe from her barbs.

* * *

If looks could kill, the one Jiro saw on his sister's face as she stomped across the town square would've done the job. Dumbfounded, he went after to her, forced to run in his efforts to catch up with her.

"What happened?" he asked, not entirely sure he was going to get an answer.

To his surprise, he did. " _Nothing,_ " she snarled. "Call the men in, get them back to the ship."

His jaw dropped open, and he just about stumbled over his own feet in surprise. "What? Why?"

"Because we're leaving, you idiot. Our useless siblings have been in this gods-forsaken shitheap for three years, and in that time, they managed to find the Avatar."

That brought him up short. _"WHAT?!"_

She didn't even bother to stop, didn't even bother to look back. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that they left four days ago."

"Oh…should we set fire to the village, kill that old woman?" He didn't really _want_ to kill the old woman, not after all the throats his sister had forced him to slit over the past few weeks, but if it calmed her down, he'd do it gladly. As for the village, well… _he just liked watching things burn._ It always made him feel calmer, somehow.

Fumiko wasn't having any of it. She just kept marching away, smoke billowing from her ears. "Fuck the town, and fuck the old woman; they don't matter. They've got a four-day head-start on us, which means we need to leave, _now._ "

He couldn't think of anything to say in response to that, so he did as he was told. He didn't stop then, to wonder how _she_ was the one giving orders to _him,_ considering that this was supposed to be _his_ crew and _his_ mission, but then again, he never had, not since the day she learned how to walk.

They were sailing north within the hour.

* * *

Kanna followed the sound of giggling children all the way to the Avatar. She stood there, shrouded in shadows, watching him kick the football across the snow. He had done some sort of strange _something (what Sokka called_ _ **Avatar Flim-Flam-Wibbly-Wobbly**_ ), and now he spoke their tribal dialect like a native. He wouldn't curse, something Kanna approved of wholeheartedly, but he could yell and shout and play.

He was playing now, sending snow flying up in flurries, shamelessly using controlled bursts of airbending to give his team an edge, something that the other teenagers did not begrudge him, because it was cool. He roared across the field, passing the ball to a teammate, soaring through the air in a great arc, landing right in front of the goal to send the ball racing right between the two thick sticks that marked it out. He threw up his hands and cheered for all he was worth, and both teams lifted him up on their shoulders, chanting his name, even those who were losing, because, from what Kanna could see, if there was a way to lose a football match, this had to be the best.

She thought about going up to him, checking on him, shooing all the children home, sure, all the ones present were fourteen and fifteen and sixteen, but _still,_ it was the middle of the night, and the young Avatar needed his rest. But, in the end, she did none of that.

In the end, she clapped her hands and cheered like the little girl she was at heart, and watched the game continue until Katara appeared and told the Avatar that it was time to go.

* * *

It wasn't until Kanna had watched the ship disappear into the night, until after she had taken a war-horn from under her bed and sounded the all-clear, calling her people down out of the hills, that she allowed herself a moment of weakness. She went back into her home, barred and locked the door, sat before the shrine to her daughter in the corner of the living room, where a carved image of her rested, that she allowed herself to cry.

She cried, and when she was done, she prayed, long into the night, for the children she had let fly off into the world. She prayed, with all her heart, that they would fulfill their destiny, and that they would never, _ever_ regret the decision to ride the maelstrom.

* * *

So... _that happened._ I don't know how it was for you, but for me, that was _fire in the circus_ levels of _intense._ I just...I really like how this all came out, how it all came together. I've wanted to do Zutara Week for _years,_ and now that I've finally done, I couldn't be more happy with the end result. I hope you all liked it, and that you all enjoyed it.

Now that that's done...anything for me to add? Hmm...you know, I don't really think so; this final part pretty much speaks for itself. I'll just toss out a few notes, like how, when I say _football,_ I, of course, mean what Americans call _soccer,_ but what the rest of the world calls _football,_ because, you know, you play it with your _feet._ I also call it that because my lovely, amazing, Latina wife is very clear that the word _soccer_ is forbidden in our household, and I wouldn't put it past her to find some way to throw a _chancla_ all the way from Mexico to Arlington, just to put me in my place.

What's a _chancla,_ you ask? Ask a Mexican; they'll have themselves a good laugh, while also flinching, if you ask the question like this: _What's a chancla, and what does it have to do with mothers?_

What else, what else...you know, like I said...this stands on its own two feet. We'll just chuckle at how ATLA fics aren't complete with a sociopathic Fire Nation royal or three, and how I seem to have a strange prejudice against the name _Jiro,_ even though every Jiro I've either met or heard of has been a pretty solid dude.

So, what's ahead? For this particular AU, I really don't have the energy right now for another super-long epic, especially one that, in my eyes, would basically consist of rewriting the entire series, episode-by-episode. I might pop into this universe occasionally for a drabble or two, but mostly, I leave it entirely in your hands. If this inspires you, feel free to take a stab at it; it'd love to see what you come up with, I really would. Same goes for fanart; just toss me the link, so I can see what you do.

That said...it's be awesome to see what this iteration of the Gaang would do with some of the shittier ATLA episodes, wouldn't it? Like the whole one with the two ethnic groups in the long canyon? You just _know_ Zuko and Azula would take one look at that situation and say, _Yeah, fuck this. Bail?_ And Sokka would be all, _Yeah, bail,_ and Aang would turn to Katara and she'd shrug and say, _You know, Aang, I think my husband and my sister-in-law are one to something here,_ and Sokka'd be all, _Hey, doesn't my opinion count for anything?!,_ and Azula'd be all, _Nope!_ And we'd all have a good laugh, episode over before the first commercial break.

And stuff like that.

As for me, well...between my wife and Lady Kaelyn, I have a long-simmering, much worked-over idea for a Harry Potter one-shot that I'm finally going to just write and throw out there, a couple other drabbles from other universes, a big original project to get cracking on, and various other things. Oh, yeah! And finally clearing out my inbox! _Sorry about that!_ I've also discovered that Tumblr is pretty cool; go look me up under _kangaroo2010,_ because I'm going to toss original stuff on there from time-to-time over the next few months.

But that, I think we can all agree, is enough of that. It's been real, it's been fun, but more importantly? _It's been real fun!_ I love you all, it was wonderful to see you, and it's time for me to peace out! _Peace!_


End file.
